The Golden Mirror
Act I Kalinga’s victory feast tasted of iron and old wine. Rajesh Menon stood at the center of the hall, the weight of the gold circlet pressing a groove into his forehead, his hands trembling not from fear but from the sheer, crushing mass of the attention directed at him. He was thirty-four, a man who had spent his life grinding organs for coin in the chawls of Mumbai, yet here he was, the...
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