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... e King’s Castle]
"Well," I repeated, quieter this time, "exile prince."
The word tasted old. Rusted. Like something I’d swallowed a long time ago and never quite digested.
Carmilla studied me in silence.
Not the kind of silence that pressures you into filling it—but the kind that weighs you, measures you, and decides how much truth you can bear.
"An exile," she said slowly, "does not usually carry himself as you do."
I snorted softly. "Tha ...
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