The Distant Crown
Thorne! The shout came from the mill gate, sharp and barking, cutting through the wet mist that clung to the ironworks like a shroud. Elias Thorne did not turn. He kept his eyes on the river, where the water churned white against the rocks, and he felt the cold seep into his boots, a familiar ache that matched the hollow feeling in his chest. He was forty years old, a disgraced engineer, and he...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare