The Distant Crown
The rain had been falling for three days, a steady, gray curtain that turned the cobblestones of the outer courtyard into slick mirrors reflecting the leaden sky, and in the quiet of the infirmary, where the air smelled of stale lavender and old blood, Commander Elias Thorne sat on the edge of a narrow wooden bed, his hands resting on his knees, fingers interlaced so tightly that the knuckles...
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