The Faded Alibi
The carriage wheels groaned against the cobblestones of the capital, a rhythmic grinding that seemed to match the hollow ache in Elias’s chest as he pressed his forehead against the cold glass. He was twelve years old, thin as a reed, and he carried with him the desperate, instinctual weight of a son who had watched his father, Thomas, waste away in the palace kitchens, coughing blood into his...
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