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... d hacienda-like estate, her heels clicking softly against the marble, echoing down the empty hallways like distant drums of doom. Ornate arches framed her silhouette as she passed, and golden light from the setting sun bathed the halls in a burnished glow that did nothing to warm the air.
The hallways echoed because of the absence of the usual bustling of workers coming and going. In the months that Aliya had instated herself as mistress of the Thornston estate, the place had continued t ...
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