The Pale Dance

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2026-08-23 13:59:56 -

The Pale Dance

The silver was cold, colder than the winter air that seeped through the cracked window of the Duke’s study, and it bit into my palm as I polished the heir’s brooch. My father’s letter lay on the desk, the ink still wet, demanding proof of my loyalty by month’s end, a threat that weighed heavier than the metal in my hand. I am Elias, twenty-four, a servant in the Duke’s court, desperate to earn...

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