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... thing feel like swallowing glass. A heavy silence hung over the room, pressing down on everyone inside like an impending storm. At the center of it all stood Fiona, trembling like a leaf caught in a vicious wind.

Her long black hair, usually so neatly braided, had fallen loose around her face, strands sticking to the tear-streaked skin of her cheeks. Her wide, doe-like eyes, red and swollen from crying, darted between the faces of those gathered—her father, the lords, Harriet—all of them ...

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