The Golden Song
The loom clicked in the dark. I felt the rhythm in my teeth before I heard it in my ears. It was a wooden beast, ancient and hungry. My fingers moved by memory, pulling the weft, beating the shuttle. The sound was a heartbeat. Thump. Thump. Thump. I was alone. The tower room was cold. Dust motes danced in the single beam of moonlight that cut through the high window. I was the King’s weaver....
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