The Wistful Cipher
Did the High Inquisitor actually speak, or did the iron lilies just decide to die? I asked it in the root cellar while Kael’s hands shook on the table. He was twenty-four, fresh from the academy, smelling of wet wool and fear. I was thirty-two, a Warden of the Ashen Court, and I needed a body. The Court needed a body. The lilies in the window box were brown and brittle, dead things that had...
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