“Have a drink w’me y’r ladyship,” The drunken maidservant, covered in white smallpox sores called out to Sandry. “Drink t’Lord Death, as has us all.”
Sandry dodged around the woman and ran up the corridor in the Palace of Black Swans. Her footsteps echoed on the cold marble tile, the passage twisting and turning with no end in sight. Her
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