The Faded Alibi
Elias. The name was not spoken but stamped into the air by the High Court’s clerk, a sound like a hammer striking a cold anvil. I stood in the center of the Great Hall, the stone floor damp with the condensation of a hundred sweating guards, and felt the weight of the chain around my neck settle into the hollow of my spine. I was thirty-two years old, a Royal Guard of the first order, and I had...
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