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... n my direction. Around us, the training ground falls silent, the clatter of wooden swords, sharp grunts and barked instructions faltering.
I pull back from Bryn, the lanky comedian who belonged anywhere but on a battle field, just like me. He sucks worse than I do in the way of the sword. Or maybe I’ve grown better.
"To the pit," Prince Rafe adds, jerking his chin. "Gather around, soldiers."
Still in a piss poor mood, I’ve done my best to blend into the bodies circling th ...
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