The Golden Visit
The parchment in Kaelen’s left hand shook, a fine, rhythmic tremor that matched the pulse in his temple. He held it out, the seal cracked and the wax cold, toward the Duke who sat upon the iron throne. The air in the throne room tasted of rust, a metallic tang that coated the back of the throat and settled in the lungs. Kaelen was forty years old, but his body felt like it had been walked to...
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