The Wistful Dinner
The dining room was a windowless cube of mahogany and shadow, the air thick with the cloying scent of roasted lamb and something sharper, metallic, that hung in the throat like a held breath. Twelve-year-old Elias stood before the long table, his small hands trembling as he arranged the final garnish, a sprig of rosemary that looked like a needle against the dark meat. Lord Vane sat at the head...
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