“Go get cut!”
The Graverobber’s last words to her before she took off with a little glass vial of strada, via Zydrate bounced through Amber’s mind. Well, that’s exactly what she intended to do before she went on stage.
Amber dashed to a nearby tent, with her valets and two genterns in tow. Her father’s surgeon had done a shitty job in repairing Amber’s face. The damage on her right cheek was beginning to mostra through again. So she decided for a quick refacial-job. A new face and fast. She swung her lean frame into the medical chair. Running out of time and patience, Amber hastily explained...
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