The Distant Crown
The rain fell in sheets, cold enough to sting the exposed skin of Elias’s knuckles as he counted the pages of the ledger. One, two, three. The book was heavy, bound in leather that felt wet and slick, like a dead fish. He stood in the courtyard of Blackwood House, the mud sucking at his boots with every shift of weight. Inside, the library windows glowed with a sickly yellow light, the only...
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