The Distant Ghost
The feast hall roared with the clatter of silver on stone and the heavy, wet sound of chewing, a noise that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards and into the soles of Kaelen’s boots. He sat rigid, his hand resting on the table, fingers curled around the heavy iron gauntlet he had worn for twenty years. Across from him, Elara poured wine, her face a mask of polite boredom, while High...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima