a bar. The first time Mordred had stepped foot in the room, it had been empty and cold, with marble statues of Arthur everywhere. They hadn’t taken long to break, but it had been
” She was just talking. Talking, talking, talking too much. This was too strange. Like when someone was dying. Something extraordinary was happening, like your father dying in the next room, and yet the ordinary things went on, too. You made tea, your mother opened the shop the next ...