The Wistful Show
The great hall of Blackwood Keep smelled of roasted venison, beeswax, and the damp, earthy scent of the stone walls weeping through the autumn rain. It was a feast for the lord’s birthday, and the air was thick with the smoke of tallow candles and the low, rumbling hum of men who had eaten too much and drank too deep. I sat in the shadows of the gallery, my hands resting on the pommel of my...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 2 Views 0 Anteprima