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417 pages, ebook
First published April 29, 2014
It was a lovely crisp morning. I looked out of the window at the deep-pink blossom of a plum tree, petals sticking to the twisted black boughs against a cloudless sky, and as I looked I started to understand something that I'd never quite appreciated. The rage[...], the sick fear[...]: they were burning in my gut, but the plum blossom was still perfectly, transiently beautiful. This was why castles built for bloody siege had to have curved roofs and moon-viewing platforms, why a besieging feudal lord would come within bowshot of the castle walls to listen to an accomplished flute player within, and get an arrow in the chest for his pains. Maybe you didn't really get the plum blossom until you had the war.