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... filtered through the grimy inn curtains, painting the room in faded amber hues.

Dylan opened his eyes without moving. He knew exactly where he was, and what was resting on his stomach: the light, warm weight of Élisa’s head, still there, as if frozen in an endless dream. Her breathing was slow, steady. Calm. Like a sleeping child.

Maggie, for her part, had slumped against the wall and eventually dozed off there, arms crossed, face relaxed. She looked like a soldier fallen asleep ...

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