The Golden Greenhouse
The glasshouse stood at the edge of the King’s garden. It was a cage of light. It was a cage of gold. Silas Vane had built it. He was a man of hands. His fingers were stained with iron and sap. He did not speak much. He spoke to the glass. He spoke to the lead. He spoke to the heat. The court watched him. They stood on the gravel. They wore silk. They smelled of lavender and suspicion. "Is it...
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