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... edge hungry for the prince's neck.
"Any last words, brother?" King Gabriel's voice was sweet poison, his golden crown gleaming like a halo atop his perfect face.
Daemon lifted his head, chains biting into the raw flesh of his wrists. Around him, the crowd roared—peasants, nobles, even the soldiers he'd bled for—all screaming for his death.
"Demon spawn!"
"Cursed blood!"
They forgot so easily.
They forgot how he'd held the Gates of Hellfire alone, ...
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