The Distant Crown
Silas, you thief, you son of a traitor, you are to stop this instant or be struck down, the voice of the councilman cutting through the mist like a blade of ice, and you hear the twang of the bowstrings behind him, a sound that is not quite a sound but a tension in the air, a held breath that vibrates in the teeth and the bones, and you know that the bridge is the only way out, that the river...
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