The Distant Nightmare
The goblet was heavy, thick gold that caught the candlelight and threw it back in sharp, jagged shards across the tablecloth. Elias Thorne held it up, his knuckles white, his smile tight against the noise of the hall. Thirty men sat around the long table, their laughter a dull roar that bounced off the vaulted ceiling, a sound like grain pouring from a sack. He raised his eyes to the King, who...
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