PREVIEW
... State Seal
The three of us were stranded in the bureaucratic purgatory known as the Spartari VIP waiting chamber, flanked by gilded decor that looked like it belonged in a funeral home run by a dictator.
Apparently, some high-octane political emergency had detonated on one of the Drakoshi fronts, and Kathrine—our illustriously horny noble contact—had been summoned by her ancient clan of war-sycophants for an emergency call. Delays ensued.
Keyla, legs crossed and expressio ...
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