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Summary
He stood leaning on the stone railing and looked at the lights in the windows of the houses beyond the castle wall. Small, yellow, warm. Ordinary life. Ordinary people.
“I don’t hate you,” kept spinning in his head.
This was the finish. The finish of his resistance, his attempts to find at least something in Minho to latch onto with hatred.
He hadn’t found it. And now he had no weapon left except his own fear.
Series
- Part 3 of My prince