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~CELIE’S POV~ The mornings in the Haerford Stronghold Castle are usually invidious because of the very first impolite interactions I am offered at the dining table. Sir Drago Dufort’s absence today, however, has mitigated some of the sourness in the tongues of the members of the pack, who’ve lost the encouragement of the only person who’d allow them to be discourteous towards me. While my thoughts are consumed by Sir Drago, who left the premises in a frantic state, I am not able to pay attention to my Delta, Antony, who seems to view me as the object of his tittle-tattle. “You’re not really listening, Celie,” whines the crabby one. “What is it?” I say with discernible frustration, and an inability to hide the abhorrence convened from his repeated attempts to seize my attention. “It