PREVIEW
... inter hail, and the wine that had been meant for a toast ran between the shards in a dark red stain.
Jonas Cutler stood over it as if the mess had happened inside his chest. His fingers shook.
He did not remember throwing the goblet. He only remembered the word that had come to him like a hammer.
Dead.
The doors to the receiving hall opened hard enough to make the hinges complain.
The head guard stumbled in with two men behind him, all three still wearing ...
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