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... side out.

Heat surged up my throat, and the next second I was bent forward, gagging until the taste of bile burned my tongue.

Nothing came up except a sour, bitter string of spit, but I couldn’t stop the retching. Each convulsion left me weaker, my muscles limp, my limbs shaking.

I didn’t even realize I’d gone slack until a warrior’s grip clamped around my arm. His fingers were like iron, unyielding as he dragged me out of the cell.

My boots scraped over stone, ca ...

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