The Crown's Edge
I. The compass sat on Cedric Windsor III's mahogany desk like a piece of jewelry that had survived a war. It was ornate—excessively so, in the way that things commissioned by men who had more money than taste always were. Gold filigree, enamel inlays, a crystal face that caught the lamplight and fractured it into colors that seemed to move when you weren't looking directly at them. Cedric had...
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