The Distant Crown
Thorne! The name hit me like a slap across the wet platform. I looked up from the shattered gold pocket watch in my hand, the glass face cracked down the middle, the hands frozen at the moment of the blow. The conductor, a man I had once taught how to tie a knot that wouldn’t slip, stood three feet away, his uniform soaked through, his face a mask of professional indifference. Behind him, the...
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