The Distant Crown
The air in the Great Hall of King Aldric’s fortress tasted of iron and old smoke, a metallic tang that coated the back of young Elara’s throat as she watched the courtier fall. It was a silent, terrible thing, the way the man’s body gave way, not with a scream but with a sigh, like a sack of flour bursting at the seams. Elara, no older than twelve and already burdened with the hollow look of a...
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