Selene did not take the stairs. With the fluid, untamed grace of a hunting she-wolf, she vaulted over the parapet of the middle terrace, descending forty feet through the freezing air like an avenging angel of starlight. Her midnight-blue cloak billowed behind her like the wings of a predatory raven. She landed in a low, flawless roll upon the muddy flagstones of the lower gatehouse, absorbing the kinetic force through…
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