The Wistful Incense
"You’re wearing the dead woman’s shame like a necklace, Bakken. Do you hear it humming?" Chapter One Anders Bakken stood at the edge of the gilded hall, the air heavy with burnt sugar and old wool. The High Court of the Exiles convened in a building that had once been a sawmill, its beams now painted a sickly, official white. He was thirty-two, and he felt the weight of his sister’s brooch...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews