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... n copper.
Steam from Mikhailis's bath still drifted round his shoulders as he raked a towel through his damp hair—and then the light ripped open.
Vines burst from thin air. Green whips corkscrewed together, bark and blossom twining until an archway big enough for a carriage throbbed in the middle of the floor. Sweet sap and damp earth rushed in like a forest exhaling. Out stepped Serelith—silver-ink robes swirling, midnight hair fanning behind her, pale lips curved in a cat-caugh ...
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