PREVIEW

... study room.

The study smelled of old parchment and candle wax. Bookshelves towered along the walls, filled with religious texts, decrees. Marcella stepped through the doorway without knocking. She just stood stiffly inside the threshold, her arms crossed.

High Priest Alistair sat at his desk—his hands still busy with scrollwork as if the world hadn't just been rearranged around his daughter. "Is the dress to your liking?" he asked.

"Yes, Father." Marcella nodded her head, ...

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