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... polished wood, the kind of scent that clung to history.

Michael sat at one end of the long table, shoulders back, but his gaze tilted away from the crowd of congratulatory chatter. He wasn’t used to this kind of attention the looks, the whispers.

"The commoner won a council seat?"

"No, not just a seat... the Disciplinary Committee."

The voices echoed in his head, but he didn’t flinch.

Emily Lionheart sat at the opposite end, posture as regal as if she’d be ...

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