The Wistful Dinner
The ink on the decree was still wet when Elias Thorne found the seal broken. It was not a violent break, but a clean, surgical severing of the wax, a white thread of fracture running through the crimson like a vein in marble. He stood in the antechamber of the Duke’s study, the air thick with the scent of beeswax and old dust, his fingers trembling not from fear, but from the sudden, cold...
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