The hall seemed to stretch on forever. She ignored the passing courtiers and servants, focusing instead on the fading day. Someone approached from the other end, a smear of black against the gold and orange light. Shadows seemed to leak from him, flowing onto the stones and the windows and the walls like spilled ink. She tried to swallow as she neared him, but found her tongue to be leaden and paper-dry. Each step brought him closer—made him bigger and taller—and her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Perhaps the opium had gone bad—perhaps she’d smoked too much this time. Amid the pounding in
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