The Golden Visit
"You look like a man who has forgotten how to breathe," said the old ferryman, his voice a rasp of dry leaves scraping against stone. Rowan stopped at the edge of the dock, the wood slick with the damp breath of the river, and did not answer. He stood there, his shoulders hunched beneath the heavy wool of his coat, staring not at the man across from him but at the reflection of his own face in...
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