The Wistful Saga
Chapter One "You are late, Sunita. The root waits. The King waits." The Chief Physician’s voice was flat, a dry leaf skittering across stone. Sunita Menon stood in the anteroom of the palace apothecary, her hands wrapped around a brass mortar so tightly her knuckles turned white. She was thirty-four, but the air in this room felt older, heavy with dried camphor and old blood. The treaty line, a...
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