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... ainst the polished floors, breath sharp in his throat.

"Where’s Mayla?" he demanded, grabbing a passing maid by the shoulder.

The girl blinked at him in confusion. "Mayla, young master? I... I don’t believe I know anyone by that name."

He let go, heart pounding harder.

Another servant came around the corner—he stopped them too.

"Mayla. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Early twenties. Where is she?"

"I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know who that is."

Trafalg ...

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