a Sala
em. Conversations did not become whispers in my wake; they ceased altogether, leaving a vacuum in which the sound of my own unsteady footsteps seemed indecently loud.
civility. His face was a roadmap of concern. "Juliana, my dear girl," he began, his voice a low rumble, "is this a settled matter? This... bestowal upon Miss Debbra?" He leaned clos
emble as I set my signature to the final transfer instrument. The nib of the pen scratched against the thick
h her frame as my signature dried upon the page. She attempted a mask of demure solemnity, but it
unnaturally damp. "No thanks are required, Debbra," I said, my gaze holding hers. "Only that you remember th
indow, watching the city's lamps smear into streaks of liquid gold and white. An exhaustion not of the body, but of the soul, settled in my bones. I feigned sleep, my eyelids closed, but I was acutely aware of her presence. I did not need to see h
w tribute. But the words did not come. And what words were there? I had given her an empire. Her silence was a more honest thing than any plati
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