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... e spoon—she slid elegantly onto his lap, straddling him once more.
Her robes spilled like night water, enveloping his knees. She nestled in, not heavy but firmly present, violet hair curtaining their faces. Her smile was all bright mischief.
Mikhailis peered over her shoulder at the unconscious knight. Cerys slumbered peacefully, arms slack, chest rising in a steady rhythm. He breathed out, torn between relief and fury.
Serelith picked up the spoon, scooped porridge, blew ...
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