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... t clatter of armor.

Her hand hesitated for a moment before she forced it to work.

Knock, knock, knock.

The sound echoed down the corridor, too loud for such an intimate hour. She waited, tension gathering in her chest, her heart pounding so wildly that she could hear it.

No answer.

She knocked again—harder, angrier, and more desperate. And then, she heard a faint sound: the rustle of cloth, footsteps.

The door creaked open slowly, and there he was. ...

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