The Golden Echoes
Could a woman hold a kingdom together with a scrap of silk? Mhairi Macara marched into the port of Portree with the rest of the royal guard, her boots crunching on the sleet-slicked cobblestones, the wind off the quarry lake biting through her wool tunic. The salt of the shore crusted her eyelashes, gritty and cold, a physical reminder that the border had moved again, leaving the family behind...
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