The Distant Crown
The iron clasp of the chainmail shirt dug into Arthur Penhaligon’s sternum with a rhythm that matched the pounding of his heart, a cold, metallic throb that seemed to vibrate through the very marrow of his bones as he stood shoulder-to-shoulder with his brother, Thomas, in the muddy, rain-slicked square of the town, where the air was thick with the scent of wet wool, unwashed bodies, and the...
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