
The Ledger of Flesh
Elizabeth had learned, long ago, that the only way to survive in Ar was to slide a veil between her heart and her eyes. She stood in the slaver’s examination room with her hands folded neatly behind her back, the soft green linen of her physician’s tunic crisp against her dark skin, and watched Caleb, the slaver, pace before the line of girls. Twelve of them. Barefoot on the stone floor, a s…
