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... thats not his best yet.)

She stepped inside and shut the door softly behind her. The lock clicked automatically.

Isolde let out a long breath and leaned against the door for a moment, finally allowing herself to relax. Her shoes pinched, her dress itched, and her mistress had kept her on edge all day with her mercurial moods and sharp tongue.

The maid crossed the room, passing the tiny round table piled with folded laundry, her travel case. It was bare, but clean. A sing ...

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