The Faded Shield
The fire started in the east wing. It took the roof. It took the books. It took my husband. I stood in the courtyard. The stone was cold under my shoes. Smoke hung low. It tasted like ash and old paper. I did not run. I did not scream. I watched the flames eat the hall. The hall where we had danced. The hall where the King had signed the treaty. The hall where they had hanged the thieves. My...
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