The Distant Blade
The rain had been falling since dawn, a steady, gray curtain that blurred the iron fence of the Thorne estate into a smear of rust and shadow. Elias Thorne stood in the doorway of his sister’s study, his coat dripping onto the Persian rug, watching the water trace its path down the glass. He was forty-two, a junior archivist at the municipal library, a man whose life was defined by the careful...
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