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The damp morning mist of Offal Court still clung to Tom Canty’s mismatched, oversized velvet boots. Days ago, he had been a shivering beggar, dreaming of golden plates. Now, he sat on a carved oak bench inside Westminster Palace, wearing the heavy crimson robes of Prince Edward Tudor. Yet, his heart was a knot of anxiety. Across London, the true prince, Edward, was stumbling through muddy alleys, wrapped in Tom’s foul rags, learning a harsher lesson.
