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... lling in across the carved wood floor.
On the sofa, Selvaria Nystovia lounged back like a queen, silver hair cascading in waves over her shoulders, her chest rising and falling with every lazy breath. Her robes clung tight, every curve showing. Her breasts strained against the fabric, heavy and full, the gold cross resting right between them.
On her lap, a girl lay with her head nestled against her mother’s thighs.
Her only daughter. Elira Nystovia.
Elira’s hair w ...
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