The Distant Crown
The iron bit dug into the King’s mouth, a sharp, metallic taste that spread through his jaw like a cold current. He did not scream. To scream would be to admit that the beast within was still alive, still capable of lashing out. Instead, Sir Cedric, the Royal Justiciar, tightened the reins. The horses, bred for war and trained for obedience, pulled the cart forward through the mud of the...
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