Chapter 7 Feathers, Lies, and Broken Glass

Sisily’s POV

“Barnaby, help me, please. Pick it up.”

Glass shards bit into my palms, making me hiss. I started scooping up the spilled moon-dust, crushed mandrake, and broken pieces of glass vials, trying to shove everything into a wooden bucket under the counter.

My throat was painfully dry,...

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