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27

27

ADRAIN

The Duke’s mansion loomed before us, an imposing structure that seemed to frown down upon us with its gargoyle-laden facade. Annalisa, ever the optimist, skipped ahead, a cheerful bounce in her step. Me? I couldn’t help but feel a sliver of apprehension gnaw at my insides.

Her father, the Duke du Wales, was a man of formidable reputation. A decorated war hero, a stern leader, and, according to Annalisa’s whispered warnings, not exactly known for his warm and fuzzy personality. The thought of facing him, seeking his approval (or at least, tolerance) made my palms slick with sweat.

We entered the grand hall, a cavernous space adorned with gleaming suits of armor and battle standards. A faint scent of leather and polish hung in the air. Annalisa, bless her heart, squeezed my hand reassuringly.

“Don’t worry, Adrian,” she murmured, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Just remember, you’re a war hero too. You practically have ‘imposing’ written all over you.”

I couldn’t help but snor
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