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Chapter 45: Undercurrents On Blatant Display
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... cold as a thief’s fingers.
His body lay there like a near carcass, too still, too quiet, pecked at by birds brave enough to try him, and even worried by flies that kept coming back as if they could not believe he still breathed.
He had the blood ruby. He could press it to the ruin of his eye and buy back his missing vision.
He did not.
’Waste,’ he told himself.
The ruby could act like a salve, but Radeon chose not to spend it.
He could not measure ...
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