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... sfied smirk playing on his lips. The soundscape from the nearby royal pavilion was... pathetic. The weak, rhythmic squeaking of the bed. The tired, shallow grunts. The sharp, contemptuous voice of Queen Kate. And then, the abrupt, ignominious silence, followed by the Queen’s furious tirade and the King’s pathetic snores.

It was almost too perfect. A symphony of failure and frustration, playing out just yards away while he was delivering a performance worthy of the gods right here against ...

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