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... r that. And not in triumph either. But with the cold, clinical efficiency that had always defined them. Their carriages rolled out at dawn, silent as blades.
Beatrice watched from the upper balcony as the procession began its descent toward the main gates. She hadn’t slept. The events of the past days had turned the palace into a crucible, and her body still ached with the lingering heat of it. She gripped the marble railing, knuckles white.
They had summoned her privately before ...
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