By late evening, the great ancestral library of Blackwood Sanctuary was bathed in the warm, dancing amber glow of a colossal stone fireplace. Thousands of antique leather-bound volumes lined the two-story walnut bookshelves, while the scent of aged parchment, beeswax, and vintage cognac filled the air. Maya sat curled on a deep burgundy velvet settee before the hearth, wearing a tailored emerald silk dressing gown that pooled around her ankles.…
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