The Pale Circus
The ink was still wet on the parchment when Sir Julian Thorne noticed the stain spreading across the wax seal, a dark bloom that resembled a bruised plum against the crimson wax. He did not look up. To look up would be to acknowledge the presence of the High Chamberlain, a man whose authority was as vast and impersonal as the stone vaults of the keep, and Julian had learned long ago that...
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