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... Light leaking through the cracked shutters like broken promises.

Alden sat on the edge of the bed, stripped down to his bloodstained tunic, hands limp in his lap. His knuckles were raw. His ribs were bruised dark. His sword lay across the floor where he'd dropped it, forgotten for now.

Sylvie knelt in front of him, a damp cloth trembling slightly in her hands.

She dabbed at the cut on his temple with agonizing care.

Neither of them spoke.

The silence betwe ...

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