The Pale Dance
The feast had been going on for three days and the air inside the manor had grown thick and syrupy, heavy with the scent of roasted lamb, spiced wine, and the cloying sweetness of overripe figs that were beginning to burst under the weight of their own juice, creating a sticky, dark paste on the heavy oak table where the lord’s retainers sat in a state of semi-consciousness that was...
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