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... ng over gravel, breath sharp in the morning air.
Beatrice kept her stance tight. Her wrists firm, shoulders relaxed. Her mind didn’t wander, didn’t spin in circles around the palace or the novel or the sinking sense of unraveling.
There was only this: Lila’s fast pivot, the sting in her palms, the curve of the sun just beginning to cut through the courtyard haze.
Lila grinned mid-turn, ducking under Beatrice’s slash.
"You’re holding back."
Beatrice parried ...
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