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... nize—like spotting an assassin at a masquerade ball or identifying a long-forgotten face in a crowd of strangers. It's a dangerous kind of knowledge, the sort that makes one's blood freeze and heart stutter, even as the mind races to process implications too terrible to contemplate.

A man stood at the Lord's right hand, his pale beauty framed by raven-black hair, his crimson eyes carrying the unmistakable hunger of a predator. And beside him, a woman with bubblegum-pink hair and eyes tha ...

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