In the dream she’d known what was about to happen but could not utter a word of warning. She stopped in front of each guest to dispense a cup of death, her face a smiling mask, until at last she approached Edward Buckler. This time he tossed the tea down his throat as if it were nothing, despite ...
As they followed him down the stone passage, the locks of the gates and gratings yielded, one after the other, with monotonous clanks like thunder. Voices, the restless murmur of prisoners in captivity, drifted from behind the iron bars of the wards that led off the passage, and through these bar...