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Chapter 37: The Dog of the Queen and The Last Dance
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... le light across the dirt path as Daemon rode.
His cloak rippled behind him like a shadow stretching free, and Caldrin — the dark stallion — moved without effort, hooves grinding dried leaves and scattered bones underfoot. The forest air was crisp, but Daemon barely noticed.
His mind wasn't on the road. It hadn't been for hours.
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The thought circled him like a vulture: his swordsmanship.
In his l ...
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