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... mber. He was already waiting, dressed in his usual muted black and charcoal attire, hands clasped behind his back like a statue carved from stone.
"You’re late," he murmured.
"You’re early," she replied.
His gaze flickered toward the chamber doors. "You don’t have to do this."
"I’m not doing it for you." She stepped closer. "I’m doing it for the people. And maybe a little for me, because I’m sick of walking around wondering who’s trying to kill us."
Lucien ...
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