The Pale Banner
Pardon Request No. 442-B: Denied. The ink was still wet when I read it. I stood in the courtyard of the palace, the rain slicking the stone until it looked like wet slate. My skin was translucent, a pale banner against the grey sky, thinning with every lie I had swallowed to keep my husband, Selim, alive. The air hummed, a low frequency that vibrated in my teeth. I wanted the pardon before...
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