The Golden Greenhouse
The feast begins with a crack in the porcelain. You are the one who hears it. The sound is small, a thin whine like a mouse caught in the wall, but it cuts through the roar of the harpsichord and the clatter of silverware. You are seated at the high table, the seat of honor, though you do not deserve it. The room is thick with the scent of roasted boar and beeswax candles. Around you, the faces...
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