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... indigo night. Lanterns swung from iron hooks, their golden light reflected in the slow-moving river beyond.
Torven was already waiting at the entrance, bowing so fervently it was a wonder he hadn’t toppled into the gravel.
"Your Majesties! Your rooms have been prepared!" he announced breathlessly, wiping his brow. "Dinner will be served in your private dining room whenever you desire. The kitchens have outdone themselves, I assure you. Oh—and word from your escorts: the carriage ...
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