ArleyMy wrists burn where the silver cuffs scraped my skin raw.The two heavy-set guards finally let go of my arms, stepping back into the shadows of the stone platform.The pack house is a blur of whispering faces and rustling dresses, but my eyes are locked on Janus.He walks straight down the steps toward me.He wears a fresh, clean black shirt, the fabric loose against his shoulders, but his skin is still pale and strained from the lingering shock of the curse. Even with his energy drained, his steps are steady and heavy. The power radiating off him makes the air feel thick.He stops right in front of me, his shadow falling over my face.Before I can even bow my head or speak, his large hand wraps gently around my forearm."Come with me," Janus says. His voice rumbles straight to my chest.He doesn't wait for my response. He pulls me along, his grip firm but careful not to touch my bruised wrists.We walk past the staring warriors, past the whispering maids, and straight into the
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