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... Knight Commander’s throat. The tip touched skin — barely, just the faintest kiss of steel — and a single drop of blood welled up, slow and dark, sliding down the column of his neck like a period at the end of a sentence no one wanted to finish.
"Your Majesty—" someone started from the crowd.
"Silence."
The word didn’t need to be loud. It landed like a blade through wood, clean and final, and the voice that had dared speak simply ceased. No shuffling feet. No rustling fab ...
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