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... o the gala. It was, to put it mildly, an uncomfortable experience. We spoke very little beyond some niceties, and she mostly stared out the window at the passing city, her expression distant.

“You clean up well,” Laessa said after some time of listening to wheels over cobblestone.

I grunted something noncommittal. The young woman also looked much changed since that night of blood and terror in which I’d met her. She’d had her black hair arranged into a mossy crown of curls hung l ...

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