The Pale Dance
The laughter in the banquet hall is too loud, a sharp, brittle thing that cracks against the stone walls of the Pale Court. You are Elara, twenty-four, and your hands are trembling beneath the tablecloth, a tremor you mask with the aggressive clinking of your silverware against the porcelain. You want only one thing: to finish the King’s forbidden ledger, to secure your freedom, and to prove...
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