The Distant Crown
Minh remembered the taste of copper before the pain, a metallic tang that coated the tongue like old blood, and she had known then that the vial was wrong. It had been the solstice, the air in the old quarter heavy with damp rot and burning incense, the fog pressing against the windows of the infirmary until the glass groaned under the weight of the world. She was thirty, a physician to the...
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