The Distant Crown
You were not a traitor, Eamon, but the silence in the keep was heavy with the accusation, and the cold that lived in the stones was heavier still. It was the winter of 1240, and the light did not so much enter the high windows of the North Keep as it seeped in, a pale, watery thing that offered no warmth, only the promise of the coming dark. Sir Eamon stood before the iron-bound door of his...
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