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... like whispers through a darkened corridor, for two long years.

Now, at ten years old, I'd become intimately acquainted with suspicion. The naïve princess who once believed herself invulnerable had faded quietly away, leaving behind someone quieter, sharper, more cautious. My silver hair, once tangled wildly with childish defiance, now fell neatly over my shoulders, braided elegantly to keep stray strands from betraying anxiety or fear. One blue eye, one gold, each now held careful scruti ...

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