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... rlight fabric that had moon like patterns.

Her hair flowed like river smoke, pale violet fading to dusk, and her eyes—her eyes were not mortal things.

Glassed-over. Pale silver. Spiraled. Seer-eyes.

House Ardeval.

Fang stepped back reflexively.

He hadn’t heard her approach. Hadn’t even felt a shift in the darkness that blanketed the chamber. And that alone was terrifying.

"Still haven’t learned to check the edge of time for footsteps," she said, he ...

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