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Hands of a King

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Each day some were brought to him: tall men with fear lurking behind blank eyes, women with no heart for the children who clung to their skirts, children who flinched and trembled at even a kindly meant touch. More burdens for a fire-new king, so marred by fear that they could not see the light.

But healing was one skill from his old life that still mattered in the new. He knew what to do for these most-wretched of his subjects, and was glad for it. A steaming kettle, athelas, and a whispered command.

The Shadow is gone! Look up!