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I shift at the sound of her voice. It’s the sound of wished-for rain on a scorching day. The clear, soul-rising ring of temple bells. The divine music of the gods. And ordinarily, she’d rather kiss a toad than talk to me.
Victory lights up inside of me as Royo raises his arms and punches the air. Then he remembers he’s Royo—the man who hates everything and can never be happy because he made mistakes in the past. But I saw it—his pride. His boyishness returning for a second.