The Distant Crown
Act I Seventy-one of Corvid Lane was a place where the wind had no mercy, and the cedar tree in the center of the yard had stopped being a tree three days ago. It was now a column of silver dust, swirling in the January thaw that had fooled the orchards into budding too early. I stood in the rain, my hands shaking not from the cold but from the frost-burn of the dust on my skin, arguing with...
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