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Chapter Eighty One

Baron's gaze lingered on her a moment longer before his voice finally cut through the room's quiet.

"How's your injury?"

Elowyn blinked, the words striking her like cold water. Her chest tightened; she froze where she lay.

"...What injury?" she asked, too quickly, too stiffly.

Baron's eyes narrowed, studying her as if she'd just dared him to test her memory. His voice stayed low, even, but the weight in it was unmistakable.

"The slash on your leg. Last night. During the race." His jaw ...

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