The Pale Circus
Lucien Duval remembered the weight of the seal before he remembered his own face. Chapter One The light in the reclamation yard was thin, the angle of the autumn sun stripping the color from the dead machines until they looked like bones. Lucien stood at one hundred and nine of Widow’s Landing, the first edition book in his hand damp with the salt air, its pages swollen and ruined. He needed...
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