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Chapter 120: The Queen’s Dinner
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Chapter 122: The City Below
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... ier and more suffocating than any spoken threat. The grand halls of the Aeridor mansion, once a sanctuary of quiet, dignified sorrow, now felt like a gilded cage where every shadow held a secret and every whisper could be a lie. The air itself was brittle with unspoken anxieties.
We sat at the long, polished obsidian table for breakfast, a perfect, painful tableau of a family that never was. Christina's father, Lord Aeridor, stared into his cup of untouched tea, his face a roadmap of sle ...
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