The Faded Bouquet
Act I Angelina Sartori knew, with the dull certainty of a bruise forming under the skin, that she would be the one to hold the line when the world finally cracked open, a realization that settled over her in the damp, stone-throated corridors of the ancient palace where the air tasted of wet wool and old iron. She stood watch, her back against the cold masonry, what he wanted of a promotion to...
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