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... to view, dark blue hair slicked loosely to the side, golden eyes gleaming beneath the low light, and that familiar appearance that only royalty could afford.

Daimon.

"Agrona," he began, his voice low, strained and almost remorseful. "You have to understand, I—"

But the scene that greeted him stopped the words dead in his throat.

Cressida sat on the floor, her fingers curved around Agrona’s throat, their faces a breath apart, lips hovering dangerously close. In ano ...

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