The Distant Blade
The blade was not the point. He had learned that much, if not before then in the ten years since the accident that had taken his right hand and replaced it with a prosthetic that clicked when he gripped things too tightly. The blade—Eleanor's blade, she had given it to him on their last evening together in the cutting room of the Royal Opera House—was now sitting on his desk in the flat...
0 Comments 0 Shares 50 Views 0 Reviews