The Golden Mirror
The locket hung from a chain of thin silver links, resting against Margaret’s collarbone like a cold coin. It was an oval of dark wood, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, and it had not been opened in three years. The court of the High King was not a place of stone and mortar, but of silence and weight. Here, the air was always still, suspended in the amber light of the great hall. Margaret stood...
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