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Rowena Adrian and I leaned closely over the candlelit table, our hands clasped together. His thumb stroked back and forth over my knuckles, each small touch sending a shiver through me. “You really do look gorgeous,” he said softly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind my ear. “Even prettier than the homecoming dance.” I smiled slightly and bit my lip. After a lifetime of being insulted on my looks, of being called a nerd and a loser, it felt nice to be complimented. “Thank you,” I said. “That’s very kind of you.” “You know…” Adrian leaned back in his chair and regarded me from across the table. Between us sat two mostly-finished plates of food and some drinks, as well as a flickering candle. “I’m really glad you became a combat manager.” I raised an eyebro