The Faded Root
It was a forgery, or at least that is what the ink suggested. Elias Thorne held the deed under the lamp, the paper damp and soft as a bruise. The seal was wrong. The wax was too red, the impression too shallow. It was a minor error, the kind that happened when a clerk’s hand shook or his mind wandered. But in the High Court, minor errors were major crimes. He looked up. Lord Vane was watching...
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