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Chapter 37: Nobles, Swords, and Soft Hugs
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Chapter 39: A Crown of Wilted Flowers
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... ht.
Strange. It’s the same bottle I’ve had aged for fifteen years. Same grapes, same vineyard. And yet it grates on my tongue like ash.
Sigh...
I set the goblet aside.
Damn it. My mind won’t calm down.
No matter how I close my eyes or count the breaths, my thoughts claw their way to the surface like starving wolves. Maybe I should train. Maybe I should carve through the air with a sword until the rage burns out of me. Maybe I should kill something. Somethi ...
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