The Wistful Show
The brass gear was cold, and Elias’s thumb was bleeding. "Is it stuck, Master?" Julian stood in the doorway, his boots scuffing the dust. He held a letter in one hand, the wax seal of the Duke’s household cracked and peeling. The workshop was dark, lit only by the tallow candle that flickered against the draft from the broken shutter. Elias did not look up. He pressed the gear into the...
0 Σχόλια 0 Μοιράστηκε 1 Views 0 Προεπισκόπηση