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... randmother within five minutes of arriving anywhere. Unfortunately, the reverse is also true. Because just as I crossed the threshold of the great hall, the universe or perhaps the part of it devoted to poetic justice delivered Daena directly into my path.
She did not look pleased. Her horns, those great curling monuments to maternal wrath, were tipped with a fresh polish and her eyes glowed with that specific shade of violet reserved for family disappointments.
"Liria," she grow ...
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