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... cold marble leech some of the frustration still buzzing under her skin. The banquet hall behind her pulsed with muffled strings and clinking goblets, but out here the arched corridor felt cavernous and still, broken only by the distant hush of ornamental fountains. She rolled tense shoulders, wishing formal attire allowed plate armor; at least steel breathed honesty.
Footsteps approached—deliberate yet unhurried. Lucien emerged from the gloom, auburn hair escaping its ribbon, his emeral ...
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