The Golden Oath
Could a woman truly be trusted with the sword if the hand holding it trembled at the sight of blood? Colette Gauthier stood alone in the vaulted hall of the Palace of the Sun, the dry cold of the Auvergne pressing against the stone until the mortar felt brittle under her fingers. She was thirty-two, a captain of the royal guard, and the golden oath ring on her left hand hummed with a low,...
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