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Dessia, whom I’d never spoken to directly, leaned toward me. She was in her early twenties, with white-blonde hair that framed a very pretty face that bore a close resemblance to her sister’s. She seemed incredibly shy. She always let Calia, a few years her senior, do the talking. Always. Until now, apparently.
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Can’t wait to hear her secret…
A Queen of Ruin (Deliciously Dark Fairytales, #4)
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