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... a hush that felt far too deliberate.
Beatrice sat by her window with a cup of lukewarm tea in hand, her robe still gathered loose at the waist. The festivities had drained the court overnight. She’d heard only soft footsteps in the corridors so far, no chatter, no laughter. Even the bells seemed to ring slower.
It should’ve been a moment of triumph. Her name had been spoken beside the crown. Her place secured. The kingdom had seen her and not flinched.
But still...
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