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... queen herself.
The rest of dinner unfolded with surprising ease. There were no servants, no guards posted near the doors. Just three chairs, three people, and the low hum of a fireplace behind them.
For a long while, they spoke of nothing.
Beatrice didn’t mind. Silence, she had learned, was not the absence of power. It was its quiet display.
But then King Marshall cleared his throat and leaned forward with the sort of mischievous gleam that belonged more to a stag ...
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