The Distant Garden
The feast had been going on for three days, or perhaps three nights, time having dissolved into a thick, sweet syrup of spiced wine and roasted goose that coated the back of Thaddeus’s throat. He sat at the far end of the long oak table in the hall of the manor house, a structure that loomed over the small village of Oakhaven like a sleeping giant carved from grey stone and mortar. The building...
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