The Wistful Cipher
The feast was a lie. It was a gilded cage built of roasted swan and spiced wine, designed to trap the breath of the court. I sat at the long oak table, my fingers cold beneath the linen cloth. Across from me, the King’s eyes were wet with a joy that did not reach his heart. "You have done well, Silas," he said. His voice was honey, sticky and sweet. "The kingdom is fed. The people are sated." I...
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