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... rechtz sat with the stillness of a painted goddess. Her throne, cushioned in crimson velvet and trimmed with obsidian lace, seemed to elevate her above the world of scheming heirs and perfumed lies. Candlelight caught the glint in her jet-black eyes—glassy, fathomless, and unreadable as the moon reflected in a dark well. She blinked slowly, the only movement betraying that she was not made of marble.
Before her, a procession of gilded ambition unfolded. Sons of marquises and counts bowed ...
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