The Wistful Show
The banquet hall of the Ironwood estate was a cavern of candlelight and shadow, the air thick with the scent of roasted venison and the heavy, cloying perfume of night-blooming jasmine. I sat at the far end of the long table, my fingers wrapped around a goblet of wine that had grown warm and still. Across from me, the lords of the valley sat in their finery, their laughter sharp and brittle as...
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