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... stage—veiled in runes and dampening wards—there was a stillness not of silence, but of exhalation.
Aurevia sat on the edge of a velvet-cushioned bench, her veil now lowered, revealing her pale, composed features. Her crimson eyes still shimmered faintly with residual frost, but there was no tension in her body.
Only grace—and exhaustion veiled beneath discipline.
"You looked like a priestess of frost and judgment out there,"
Cellione said with a grin, her golden ...
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