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... had expected. He crouched lower behind the bookcase, perfectly still, every breath shallow. From his position, he was too close to see without risk, so he only listened.
The door creaked but didn’t close completely. Instead, it remained ajar, just enough for sound to leak through.
A breathy laugh. Then the rustle of silk. Low murmurs. Lips meeting in a kiss.
"You’re bold to walk these halls at such an hour, my king," came a voice smooth as polished stone—Maeryn’s.
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