Where our shadows meet

ure

til I saw her standing barefoot on that balcony, l

I can't

ir

ers of my mind like a

supposed to kill kings. Burn

in the pattern. A memory I

-

blade even though it's already clean. The

esn't wor

ys, dropping onto the bench

I knew he

s. "The p

children. Before the

're

irl in a laurel garden. And I reme

she

't an

If there's a past between you and the girl, it's n

kno

ight pressing against my ribs l

-

ch from beneath my bedroll. Inside is

writing. Two n

ra &

der, we won't

e ink is nearly gone, but

pposed t

e were neve