The Distant Crown
Chapter One "Put the tin down, Filomena." The shutter banged against the brickwork, a dry, wooden crack that had kept her awake for three nights running. It was a sound like a knuckle rapping on a coffin lid. She did not put the tin down. Her hands were slick with sweat and the metallic taste of old blood that lived in the cellar’s damp. The air here smelled of wet stone and the sharp, coppery...
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