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... Duskmoor didn’t smell like rot.
That alone made Leon suspicious.
It was bigger than Grayridge by far—wide stone streets, watchtowers with banners that didn’t look like they’d been dipped in regret, and people who walked like they weren’t constantly scanning for alley stabbings.
He rode behind Seraphine, hands loosely gripping the saddle, eyes darting everywhere. Guards at the gate had saluted the moment she came into view. No hesitation. No questioning the kid clinging t ...
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