The Wistful Incense
Chapter One Sofia Argyros, thirty-two, smelled the rot in her father’s lungs before she saw the blood on his sheets. The air in the ancestral hall was thick with the sulfurous tang of the censer, a heavy, cloying scent that clung to the back of the throat and tasted of old iron. Her father, Demetrios, lay in the corner, his chest heaving with a rattle that sounded like wet gravel shifting in a...
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