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... with each passing moment, his rapier flashing like fleeting bolts of silver. The rhythm of their exchange, once measured, had abruptly shifted without warning, as if the battle had taken on a tempo of its own.

In a blink, Hillary’s rapier darted forward. Asher’s instincts flared, he moved to intercept, but his blade met nothing but air. The strike had already come and gone, too swift to track.

Then came the sting. Steel met flesh in a single, seamless motion, clean and sharp, lik ...

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