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... he’d been summoned to fix. He was draped in slate-gray robes trimmed in matte black silk, his gloves tight, his boots soundless. He carried no luggage nor sketchbook, just an air of doom and taste so refined it could cut through glass.

His eyes swept the sunroom like it might disappoint him.

It did.

"You’re late," Elias said, because he couldn’t help himself.

Laziel’s green eyes moved to him like the sun deciding whether to bother shining.

"I’m early, darl ...

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