Page 1 of Shattered Crown

1

DAWN’S EMBRACE

Warmth pressed against his back, steady as an anchor against time itself. Silas kept his eyes closed a moment longer, savoring the sensation of Thorne's arm draped over his waist, the slow rhythm of his breathing, the way their legs tangled beneath forest-spun blankets. Morning light filtered through ancient branches overhead, painting shifting patterns across his closed eyelids.

He opened his eyes gradually, letting them adjust to the sacred grove's strange luminescence. This deep in the Eldergrove, light behaved differently. It pooled like liquid gold in the hollows between roots, caught and held by leaves that had never known autumn, reflected off flowers that bloomed only here, in Thorne's private sanctuary.

Silas turned carefully within Thorne's embrace, mindful not to wake him yet. In sleep, the sharp angles of Thorne's face softened. The perpetual furrow between his brows smoothed away, leaving him looking younger, almost vulnerable. Silver-white hair spilled across moss that served as their pillow, catching light like spun moonbeams.

The patterns on Thorne's skin pulsed with each slow breath, a gentle tide of luminescence that matched his heartbeat. Silas had spent hours learning those patterns, tracing them with fingers and lips, discovering how they flared brighter under his touch. Even now, just looking at them sent a shiver of wonder through him.

Around them, the grove bore evidence of their night together. Flowers bloomed out of season, their petals still damp with dew. Vines had grown overnight, weaving protective barriers around their sleeping space. The very air felt charged, heavy with residual magic from their lovemaking. Their connection had awakened something in the ancient trees, called forth responses from the deepest roots of the forest.

A small smile tugged at Silas's lips as he remembered. The way Thorne had looked at him, eyes dark with centuries of longing finally released. How their magic had merged, creating something neither of them fully understood yet. The sounds Thorne had made, primal and beautiful, when Silas...

Thorne stirred, silver lashes fluttering. His arm tightened around Silas's waist, pulling him impossibly closer.

“Watching me sleep again?” Thorne's voice rumbled with morning roughness, sending pleasant vibrations through Silas's chest.

“Can you blame me?” Silas traced a fingertip along one of the glowing patterns on Thorne's chest. The light followed his touch, brightening like embers fanned to flame. “You're beautiful like this.”

Thorne's eyes opened fully, that otherworldly eyes that still made Silas's breath catch. “Only like this?”

“Fishing for compliments before breakfast?” Silas teased, but he leaned in anyway, capturing Thorne's lips in a slow, deep kiss.

The response was immediate. Twilight flowers around them opened despite the morning hour, releasing a perfume that made Silas's head spin pleasantly. Thorne's hand slid lower, fingers spreading possessively across the small of his back, urging their bodies flush together.

The key around Silas's neck pulsed with warmth, resonating with their connection. It had done that more frequently since they'd become lovers, as if celebrating the union it had waited centuries for.

They broke apart only when breathing became necessary. Thorne's thumb traced Silas's lower lip, his expression soft with an emotion that would have been unthinkable mere weeks ago.

“We should get up,” Silas murmured, though he made no move to do so. “I need to visit the village market.”

“The market will still be there in an hour,” Thorne replied, his free hand carding through Silas's hair. “Or two.”

Silas laughed, catching Thorne's wandering hand. “And you have that disturbance at the northern border to investigate.”

Thorne's expression darkened slightly. “The boundary spirits have been restless. Something's stirring them up.”

“Tell me about it?” Silas shifted, resting his head on Thorne's chest. He could hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat, feel the subtle vibration of magic that always surrounded him.

As Thorne explained the ancient protocols for dealing with boundary spirits, his fingers never stopped their gentle exploration of Silas's skin. Each touch left trails of warmth, little sparks of magic that made Silas's nerves sing. He listened attentively, genuinely interested in learning more about Thorne's responsibilities, but also simply enjoying the rumble of his voice, the way his chest rose and fell beneath Silas's cheek.

“You're not listening anymore,” Thorne observed after a while, amusement coloring his tone.

“I am,” Silas protested. “Something about negotiation circles and offerings of moonflower essence.”

“That was five minutes ago.”

“Well, you're very distracting.” Silas pressed a kiss to the nearest glowing pattern, satisfaction curling through him when Thorne's breath hitched.

“Come,” Thorne said, sitting up and bringing Silas with him. “The spring will help wake you properly.”

The natural spring nearby was one of Thorne's masterworks, carved from living stone and fed by underground streams. Steam rose from its surface, carrying the scent of herbs Thorne had cultivated specifically for healing and cleansing. The water maintained a perfect temperature year-round, warm enough to soothe muscles but cool enough to refresh.

Silas slipped into the water with a contented sigh. Weeks of sleeping on forest floors and in magical groves should have left him aching, but Thorne's magic ensured he always woke refreshed. Still, the warm water felt incredible against his skin.

“Let me,” Silas said, reaching for Thorne as he joined him in the spring. He guided Thorne to sit on a submerged stone ledge, then moved behind him.

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