The Winter King

Wake. Now. And so he did.

Caleb jolted upright to the sound of nothing at all. Nothing, that is, save the call of an alarm clock hardwired into his brain letting him know it was time. A strong dose of laudanum could not have kept him in bed a moment longer than mandated by the supreme and absolute Grand Law of Parental Requirement That We Not Get up until at Least Six on Christmas Morning, for Pete's Sake.

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