The Wistful Dinner
Act I "You think I’ll sign it?" I asked, my voice flat against the cold stone of the gatehouse. The parchment in my hand was sealed with red wax, the King’s lion pressed deep into the center. It named Kael a traitor. A spy for the southern courts. A thief of grain. I had served under him for twelve years, from the time the bridge tolls were first levied to the day the ice storm felled the elms...
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