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... arp-eyed man with ink still drying on his cuffs, the type who lived on work and coffee and very little else.
Heena glanced at him. "Secretary," she said, "write down what I’m about to say. Line by line."
He bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty."
He pulled out a leather folder, set paper on the low table, uncapped his pen, and waited.
Heena leaned back slightly.
"Today," she began, clearly and slowly, "I, Empress Celeste, in the presence of my secretary and the member ...
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