The Distant Crown
The ledger lay open on the velvet table, its pages yellowed with the weight of secrets that had long since outlived the men who wrote them, and Elias Thorne, his hands trembling with a terror that was indistinguishable from awe, traced the inked signatures of the Crown Prince with a finger that had spent thirty-two years smoothing silk and hiding stains. He had come to the royal wardrobe not as...
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