The Wistful Throne
The champagne flutes clinked with a sound like breaking glass, a brittle, high-pitched noise that Elias Thorne felt in the base of his skull as he stood amidst the swirling tide of the municipal library’s centennial gala, his tie loosened to the point of strangulation, his eyes fixed on the small, leather-bound manuscript resting in the velvet case on the table before him. The Wistful Throne,...
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