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... um. Heavy velvet curtains blocked out every photon of light. The air was stale, smelling of lavender and despair.

I knelt on the expensive rug, ignoring the looming, terrifying presence of Duke Lucien Crepusci behind me.

I looked at Silas.

The Silent Cub was sitting in the corner, knees pulled to his chest. He was a tiny thing, maybe four years old. He had messy, ink-black hair and big, round panther ears that were pinned flat against his skull.

But it was his eye ...

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