The Wistful Cipher
The feast was loud. Candlelight shook against the stone. Miles stood by the hearth. He watched the wine. Red as a bruise. It pooled in the bowl. No one saw him. They looked at the table. At the meat. At the bread. Miles looked at the walls. They were old. Older than the town. Older than the law. The house breathed. It expanded. It contracted. A living thing. Or so it seemed. He was the...
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