The Golden Farce
The summons lay on the dressing table, the wax seal broken and the paper creased from where I had folded it into a square to hide it from the maids. It was not an invitation to the midnight feast, as I had hoped, but a directive to present myself before the King at the third bell. I read it three times, the ink blurring as my hand trembled, a palsy that had settled into my fingers like wet sand...
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