The Pale Dance
The feast had been going on for three days, a relentless, thundering celebration of the King’s return from the northern wars, and the air in the great hall was so thick with the smoke of tallow candles and the heavy, cloying scent of roasted boar and spiced wine that it felt less like air and more like a physical weight pressing against my lungs, a suffocating blanket of warmth that kept the...
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