The Pale Dance

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2026-08-18 14:36:25 -

The Pale Dance

The rain had ceased, leaving the cobblestones of the royal square slick and reflective, like the surface of a black mirror that held nothing but the grey sky above. Arthur Penhaligon sat in the corner of the High Council chamber, a space usually reserved for those who served, not those who spoke. He was a man of books, of ink-stained fingers and a mind that preferred the static silence of...

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