The Distant Affair

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 03:58:31 -

The feast hall of Aethelgard did not smell of roasting boar or spiced wine, as one might expect of a gathering of the realm’s most learned men. It smelled of ozone and wet stone, a metallic tang that clung to the back of the throat and settled in the lungs like ash. Marguerite sat at the far end of the long oak table, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her fingers pale and still against the...

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