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... The blood on the baron's lip. His sister trembling beside him. The Crane heir standing tall, basking in noble righteousness. And then—her, stepping into it all.

Too late.

Just in time.

And then—

The boy's voice changed.

Softer.

Higher.

Feigning a young noble's tremble, and lacing it with theatrical desperation.

"Ah… Princess," he said, hand to his chest, mock-shaky but not mocking. "'My liege—my lady—please. You remember me, don't ...

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