Pushing the double glass doors open, I squinted through the dim lights of the pub. The air was thick with the acrid smell of stale ale and smoke that clouded the space like a boiler room.Ryan had promised to come but I had to be patient to catch a glimpse of him. It appeared he hated the spotlight.True to my expectation, he was huddled at a corner, concealed partially by the shadow. The areas surrounding his left arm and parts of his chest were captured by the poor light of the space.I made my way to his table and slid wordlessly by him.He glanced up at me, his eyes cold, calculating. Ryan wasn’t a friend—never had been. He was more like a shadow, always lurking, always knowing more than he should."Vera," he said, his voice low but sharp, "She’s in the King’s holding cell."I felt my chest tighten. The King wasn’t merciful. Anyone who defied him was met with punishment, and Vera… I knew she wouldn’t bow down, not even to save herself. The thought of what they might do to her claw
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