The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-19 21:43:17 -

The carriage wheels bit into the wet gravel of the King’s private road, a sound like the crunching of dry bones, as Elara sat in the corner with her head bowed against the velvet seat. Rain lashed against the small leaded windows, blurring the grey landscape of the Scottish Highlands into a watercolor smear of mud and heather. She was not crying, though her eyes were wet. She was calculating....

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