The Faded Bouquet
The count was three days. Sir Aldric of the Order of the Silver Cross stood before the High Inquisitor, his knuckles white against the hilt of his sword, and he did not speak until the silence in the stone hall had grown thick enough to choke on. He wanted his sister. Elara was in the cells below, accused of witchcraft for the crime of knowing which herbs staved off the rot in a village’s...
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