The Distant Crown
The rain had not stopped for three days. It drummed against the slate roof of the Hall, a steady, gray rhythm that seemed to count out the seconds of our separation. I was ten years old. I remember the cold in my hands as I held the hem of my father’s cloak. He did not look at me. He looked at the door. He was leaving. In the old stories, the King went into the woods to find the Distant Crown....
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