The Faded Alibi
The stone beneath your feet is cold, a dampness that seeps through the soles of your boots and settles into your bones, a chill that has nothing to do with the autumn air drifting through the open archways of the Hall of Mirrors. You stand in the center of the great courtyard, the place where the King’s shadow used to fall longest, and you are waiting for him to come back. He will not. You know...
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