The Distant Legend
The great hall of the Abbey of St. Jude was not merely a room but a breathing organism, its stone walls sweating with the humidity of a thousand candles and the collective exhalation of the assembled nobility, a sea of velvet and silk that rippled with the low, ceaseless hum of gossip and clinking goblets. Margaret Holloway sat at the far end of the table, her hands folded tightly in her lap so...
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