The Distant Crown
"The seal is in your pocket, Elias. Take it out." Silas’s voice was flat, stripped of the warmth that used to curl around our words in the kitchen when the fire was low. He stood in the doorway of the hut, rain dripping from the hem of his cloak, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. I looked at my own hands. They were rough, cracked from the winter work, but empty. The heavy iron chain...
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