The Wistful Petal
Chapter One Who among us has ever seen his own shame reflected so clearly it burned the eyes? Sohrab Parsa, thirty-two and constable of the guild town, sat at the Duke’s feast in the year 1340, his hand steady on the hilt of his sword while his stomach churned with the hunger of a man who owed credit for grain. The air in the temple courtyard was thick, electric with the promise of a storm that...
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