The Pale Dance

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2026-08-19 18:58:53 -

The Pale Dance

The hall smelled of roasting goose and wet wool. It was a heavy, suffocating scent, the kind that settled into the pores and refused to leave. Margaret stood by the stone pillar, her hands clasped tightly in front of her waist, feeling the sweat dampen the silk of her bodice. Around her, the noise of the harvest festival churned like a pot of boiling broth. Men laughed with open throats. Women...

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