The Wistful Dinner
The debate was supposed to be a formality, a gentle rite of passage where the heir to the minor Duchy of Ashworth demonstrated his fitness for the seat, but it had become a war zone of intellect. I am twelve years old, and I wanted to win, not for the power of the title, which was mostly ceremonial, but for the validation that I existed as a separate entity from my brother. Julian, who is...
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