The Golden Farce
The carriage wheels ground against the frost-hardened earth, a rhythmic grinding that echoed the grinding of teeth in the jaw of the boy, Thomas Bradshaw. He sat in the back, his knees drawn up to his chest, watching the world blur into a smear of grey birch and white snow. The destination was the Palace of St. Jude’s, a sprawling edifice of stone that rose from the valley floor like a tumor of...
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