The Pale Tower
The paper was thin, almost translucent, and it felt cold against Elara’s palm like a slab of ice pulled from a winter well. She held it up to the grey light filtering through the high windows of the library, turning it slightly so the ink caught the glare, checking the seal, the script, the date. It was a deed of release, signed by the Crown, promising the immediate discharge of the Ashworth...
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