The Distant Wound
Chapter One Wanthanee Wongwiset pressed the service revolver against the cold iron of the gate, the metal biting into his palm as he forced the rusted latch to yield. The light in the obsidian throne room was failing, the angle of the sun low and sharp against the birch-stump logs that lined the walls, casting long, jagged shadows that seemed to reach for him. He was forty-five, and the weight...
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