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Horace Valerius sat at the head seat, his face as solemn as still water, his fingers turning pale from gripping the armrests of his golden dragon-headed throne with such force that it seemed they might crumble.
He stared at his son, who stood in the center of the hall against the light, clad in a dark gold beast robe still dusted with the scent of the Lower Domain, unable to suppress the anger within him.
"You dare return?"
Horace Valerius shot up, his voice icy c ...
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