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... of her hand, refusing to meet Liria’s gaze. "You win," she muttered, trying to sound dismissive, as if losing to Liria in the sand ring meant nothing. As if her heart wasn’t pounding so hard it hurt, as if the sting on her cheek wasn’t matched by a deeper ache somewhere she could never quite reach.
It was meant to be over now. The match, the confessions, the old feelings pulled from the dust like lost swords. Enara told herself to turn, to walk away, to let the night swallow her before ...
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