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... protest. My arms trembled uncontrollably, and each breath was a sharp, burning stab through my ribs.
The Queen stood just a few paces ahead, her silhouette a fragile shield between me and the unknown terror stirring in the darkness behind her.
Her shoulders were squared, but her clenched fists betrayed the tension radiating off her like heat waves before a coming storm.
I saw it—the slight tremor in her fingers, the flicker of unease in her usually unshakable crimson eye ...
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