by E.L. Even
I met the King of the Undead on the night I watched a man die twice. I was a runaway girl with nothing but a stolen crust of bread. He was a ruined knight in chains, whispered about in taverns and markets as a king who would not stay buried.That night, I learned two things:Coins can carry curses.And Arthur, yes, that Arthur, can summon death with a word.Now the city is in debt. The Ledger he pressed into my hands records every payment in blood and fear. The priests call him blasphemy. The river eats the living. I am caught between a king who sleeps like an emperor and a city that would rather see me drowned than marked. I only wanted bread. I got Camelot.
