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... innocent in the morning. Sun pooled across polished floors, courtiers drifting in elegant clusters, the scent of lemon cakes and rosewater filling the air. Today, there was a musical quartet playing softly near the far arch, and a table of diplomatic wives pretending not to gossip near the citrus trees.
Beatrice stepped inside like she belonged there.
And for the first time in a long while, no one tried to argue with that.
She wasn’t late. She wasn’t early. She arrived a ...
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