The Golden Suspect

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2026-08-17 16:47:53 -

The carriage wheels groaned against the gravel, a sound like old bones grinding in the earth, as Eleanor Ashworth approached the gates of the Palace of Saint Jude. It was a journey of three days from the coastal cliffs, and the air in the carriage had grown stale, thick with the scent of dried lavender and her own unease. She sat upright, her spine rigid against the velvet seat, watching the...

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