The Golden Oath
The ink on the deed was still wet when Elara’s hand shook, and she pressed a flat palm against the table to stop the tremor from shaking the pen. The smell of the clerk’s office was thick with the dust of old paper and the sharp, metallic tang of Silas’s fear. He stood by the window, his back to her, and she could see the gold. It started at the knuckles of his right hand, a dull, brass-colored...
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