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... he carriage finally grinds to a halt, and I stumble out, the weight of my thoughts heavier than the journey itself. My servants stand at a distance, knowing better than to touch me. I hate it, despise the sensation of anyone’s hands on my skin—especially now.

As I move through the halls, my steps feel heavier, almost unsteady. The third floor looms in my mind, the place where Noelle waits, but I can’t go there. Not like this. Not when I reek of another’s pheromones—an omega’s scent cling ...

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