The Pale Bridge

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2026-08-21 20:26:58 -

The Pale Bridge

The air in the Great Hall smelled of damp stone and boiled lard. It was a thick, heavy scent that clung to the back of the throat. Elias stood by the iron range. His hands were red. The water was hot. He stirred the pot. The spoon scraped the bottom. Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. He was the King’s cook. Or rather, he was the man who kept the King’s mouth from rotting. The distinction mattered. The...

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