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Summary
She was like the threatening dawn in his childhood hive, primal and looming larger the closer he stepped towards her. His head was still bent, neck bared.
He knew the final trial. He knew the clinical definition--dedication to the Empire, subservience to the Empress--and he knew the dime-store novelization--dedication to the Empire, forbidden lust for the Empress--and god, he had forgiven himself his own sins during his years in the academy, bent low beneath her plate-print portrait on his mandatory Iconagraphic Image.
