Before Auren could summon his guards, Queen Lyra rose from her throne, descending the dais steps with regal, unhurried grace. She wore an emerald velvet gown trimmed with silver fur, her posture radiating calm, untouchable authority. She stopped barely three paces from the towering, sulfur-scarred warlord. Worn looked down at her with sneering contempt, expecting the human woman to recoil from his rotting, sulfurous odor. Instead, Lyra reached out, her…
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