The Faded Paradox
"You wear it too tight," the Chancellor said. His voice was dry, like leaves skittering over stone. "It pinches the neck. You look like a thief trying to hide a stolen ring." Elara did not answer. She stood in the center of the hall, the floor cold beneath her woolen shoes. The air smelled of wet ash and old beeswax. Around her, the courtiers shifted. They wore silk that whispered. She wore the...
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