The Distant Blade
Chapter One I remember the taste of the copper before I ever saw the blood. It was a sharp, metallic tang that sat on the back of my tongue, tasting like old pennies left in the rain. My name is Etienne Fontenot, and I have spent my life in the damp cellar of the house on Ninth Street, grinding roots and boiling leaves until the steam fogged the glass. I am an apothecary, though the city calls...
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