PREVIEW

... because of the atmosphere inside—the tension clinging to the air like fog.

Darin stood beside the great war table, still chewing the last bit of cinnamon bun he’d smuggled in. Vincent was beside him, happily devouring his fifth. Alvin stood in his usual spot at the far corner, arms crossed and scowling like it was a profession.

Duchess Mary was already seated, a goblet of wine in her hand far too early in the day, and the look on her face said she would rather be wrestling a mou ...

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