The Pale Path
The lead came off in strips, thick and yellow, peeling away from the cold glass as if the pane were shedding skin. I watched it curl onto the stone floor of the Great Hall, a dead serpent of metal, while the central section of the King’s window, the one I had installed only two winters ago for a sum that could buy a man’s freedom, lay in a thousand jagged pieces that refused to lie flat. It was...
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