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The quiet after carnage was never peace. It was just the world catching its breath.
Leon stood surrounded by cooling bodies and overturned stalls, the twin daggers still dripping in his hands. His breathing had evened out, but his stance hadn’t relaxed. Not yet.
Because in front of him, a woman sat astride a horse—a figure as out of place in Grayridge as a jewel in a dungheap.
She’d arrived alone. No fanfare, no guards, just hoofbeats and silver armor flashing be ...
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