The Golden Suspect
The bell in the tower did not ring for the hour, but for the man, and I stood in the shadow of the archway, my hand still gripping the hilt of the dagger I had been meant to plant in the Lord Chancellor’s back, feeling the cold iron bite into the palm of my left hand, a sharp, familiar ache that seemed to anchor me to the stone floor while the rest of the castle shook with the noise of the...
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