โ Scribed by Deborah Kalin; Deborah Kalin
No coin nor oath required. For personal study only.
I put out a hand to steady myself as the vision took me. The parquetry floor washed to black ... As if sparked by the hard glare, a fire burst and raged through the room, the flames hot enough to crisp bones and raise the smell of marrow burning to cinders. And me in the middle, wrapped in the black shroud of the dead. Matilde of the House of Svanaten is tired of being shadow queen. Her accession to the Turasi throne is long overdue, yet her imperious grandmother, Beata, is reluctant to hand over power. When Matilde's mysterious aunt, Helena, turns up for Turassi's most important fest.
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I put out a hand to steady myself as the vision took me. The parquetry floor washed to black . . . As if sparked by the hard glare, a fire burst and raged through the room, the flames hot enough to crisp bones and raise the smell of marrow burning to cinders. And me in the middle, wrapped in the bla
I put out a hand to steady myself as the vision took me. The parquetry floor washed to black . . . As if sparked by the hard glare, a fire burst and raged through the room, the flames hot enough to crisp bones and raise the smell of marrow burning to cinders. And me in the middle, wrapped in the bla
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*I put out a hand to steady myself as the vision took me. The parquetry floor washed to black...As if sparked by the hard glare, a fire burst and raged through the room, the flames hot enough to crisp bones and raise the smell of marrow burning to cinders. And me in the middle, wrapped in the black