The Golden Song
The banquet hall of the King’s new court, a sprawling edifice of cold stone and stained glass that smelled of beeswax, damp wool, and the metallic tang of impending judgment, hummed with a low, electric dread that you felt vibrating in your teeth before it reached your ears. You sat at the long oak table, your hands folded in your lap, feeling the weight of the velvet sleeve against your wrists...
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