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I awoke in Margaery's bedchamber to the soft warmth of morning light creeping through tall, arched windows. A gentle breeze teased the curtains, bringing with it the scent of Highgarden's roses—less intense than last night.

"Mmm..." I yawned, sitting up a little. My gaze fell on the bandage wrapped around my hand, now tinged with faint red stains from my half-healed wound. It throbbed in a muted reminder of yesterday's nearly fatal arrow, but the pain was barely there.

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