PREVIEW
... in the squadron carried it — that particular quality of city-born arrogance that clung to pressed cloaks and polished boots the way perfume clings to imported silk.
They’d been riding since dawn and they still looked like they’d descended from somewhere elevated, their horses well-bred, their formation tight, their eyes moving across Millbrook’s main street with the specific sliding assessment of people evaluating something they hadn’t expected to find.
Seven of them.
Di ...
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