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I sighed without slowing my pace. “You know he won’t. Besides, why don’t you do it? You and the steward have been his councilors for years.”

The Royal Clericon, whose real name was Candice Fletcher, struggled to keep pace with me. She wasn’t a young woman, nor in the best health.

“Would you stop!?” She insisted.

Suppressing a growl, I did and wheeled on her. Pale and silver haired, the Emperor’s scribe was an almost ghostly woman in her gold-trimmed white habit a ...

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