The Wistful Cipher
The soot clings to the inside of your wrist, a heavy, damp weight that smells of burnt coal and old blood. You are Elias Thorne, thirty-two, a constable in Oakhaven, and your hands are shaking so violently that you can barely hold the warrant for the arrest of Julian Vane. You need this pension. You need it to keep Clara out of the workhouse, where the air is thin and the bread is sawdust. The...
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