The Golden Circuit
The ink was still wet when I saw the first mark fade, a subtle bruising of the violet pigment against the creamy rag of the parchment, a slow dissolving like sugar in cold water. I held the letter in my left hand, the one that did not tremble, and watched the script of the High Court’s decree bleed into nothing, the words I had sworn to memorize evaporating into the dusty air of the carriage....
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