The Distant Crown
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a grey curtain that blurred the edges of the world. Inside the hall, the silence was heavy, broken only by the rhythmic drip of water from the eaves and the soft, wet snap of kindling in the hearth. Eleanor sat on the stone floor, her back against the cold wall, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She was not a queen, nor a princess, but...
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