The Golden Echoes
The wine is thick in your throat, tasting of iron and crushed berries, a heavy sweetness that coats the tongue like varnish. You sit at the head of the long oak table, though you do not feel you have earned the place. The candles in the silver candelabras flicker against the draft from the high windows, casting long, trembling shadows across the faces of the Duke’s court. They are watching you....
0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 2 مشاهدة 0 معاينة