The Faded Masquerade
The blade of the dagger slipped between the ribs of the man who had once been his friend, and Sir Thomas felt the cold shock of it travel up his arm, a vibration that stopped in his chest and settled there like a stone. He did not pull the weapon free immediately; he held it, letting the weight of the steel anchor him to the floor of the dungeon while the blood, warm and thick as wet clay,...
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