PREVIEW

... private room in the estate, all the sentinels do apart from Victor ofcourse—I peer down at the western slope leading toward the main house.

And there they are.

The infamous Crimson General and his radiant husband, returning like a pair of misbehaving students sneaking back to the dorms after curfew.

They’re both wearing that post-debauchery disheveled look: Thorne’s collar is half undone, his belt clasp barely holding on for dear life, and Noelle has leaves in his hair. L ...

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