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... ne of Leonork as the sun tried to break through the gray. Jude lay on the cot, bandaged and still, his eyes half-open as he watched the ceiling of the hideout pulse with flickering lantern light. The scent of wet stone and burning herbs clung to the air, a crude mixture of medicine and desperation. Around him, voices murmured, soldiers, runners, civilians, all packed into the underground resistance camp like bones in a crypt. He should have died in the cathedral. He knew that. Ayla had dragged h ...
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