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... ess."
Arion’s gaze lingered on him for a second longer than necessary, like he was cataloguing the way Dean’s mouth curved when he tried, and failed, to be serious. Then he looked ahead again, already guiding them through the side corridor and into the sitting room that waited like a pocket of quiet carved out of the palace’s appetite.
The door closed. The noise and the eyes stayed outside.
Lemonade appeared as if summoned by the word itself. A low table, pale light, and ...
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