Page 2 of Shattered Crown

Silas worked his fingers through Thorne's hair, massaging his scalp with practiced motions. The silver strands felt like silk between his fingers, impossibly soft for someone who lived wild in the forest. Thorne made a sound low in his throat, somewhere between a growl and a purr, that sent heat pooling in Silas's belly.

“You're going to put me back to sleep,” Thorne murmured, his head tilting back into Silas's touch.

“Would that be so terrible?” Silas worked his thumbs along the base of Thorne's skull, finding and releasing tension points. “We could stay here all day. Let the market and the boundary spirits sort themselves out.”

Thorne caught one of his hands, pressing a kiss to his palm. “Tempting. But we both know better.”

When Thorne turned the tables, pulling Silas into his lap to return the favor, his touches carried a different intent. Strong fingers worked shampoo through Silas's hair, but every movement seemed designed to drive him slowly mad. Thorne's lips found the sensitive spot behind his ear, teeth grazing skin just enough to leave marks that would show above his collar.

“You're doing that on purpose,” Silas accused, though he tilted his head to give Thorne better access.

“Marking what's mine,” Thorne replied simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. His teeth closed on Silas's earlobe, tugging gently. “So everyone knows you're under my protection.”

The possessiveness in his voice should have been concerning. Instead, it sent a thrill through Silas that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with want. He turned in Thorne's arms, capturing his mouth in a kiss that tasted of herbs and morning and promise.

They stayed in the spring longer than strictly necessary, hands relearning paths they'd mapped the night before, sharing kisses that left them both breathless. Only the gradually brightening sky finally convinced them to emerge.

Dressing became its own ritual. They'd developed a rhythm over the past weeks, moving around each other with unconscious grace. Thorne's clothes seemed to shape themselves to his body, forest magic ensuring perfect fit. Silas's were more conventional, but he'd noticed subtle changes in them too. The fabric felt softer, more durable, as if the forest had claimed even his wardrobe.

As Silas fastened the last button on his shirt, a flutter of wings announced a messenger—a sparrow with unusually bright eyes that landed on the windowsill, its feathers ruffled with urgency.

“Speak,” Thorne commanded, his demeanor shifting instantly from lover to guardian.

The bird's voice came out in hurried chirps that somehow formed words. “Lord Guardian, the western boundary stones are showing signs of corruption. Three turned black at dawn, crumbling to ash when touched. The fourth bears strange markings—like shadows that move when not observed.”

Thorne's expression darkened. “Where exactly?”

“The markers nearest Lord Sebastian Blackthorn's estate,” the sparrow replied.

Silas and Thorne exchanged troubled glances. Sebastian had never hidden his contempt for the forest's autonomy or his ambition to exploit its resources.

“This is the third such incident this month,” Thorne said after the messenger departed. “Always near Blackthorn land.”

“Sebastian sits on my father's war council,” Silas said, his jaw tightening. “If he's deliberately testing the forest's defenses...”

“Then your father might be involved in something larger,” Thorne finished, his voice carrying a rare edge of concern.

Silas felt the familiar tension of divided loyalties twist in his chest. “I should make inquiries when I visit the village market today.”

Thorne nodded, then his expression softened as he selected a small flower from a nearby vine. Its petals shifted colors in the morning light, blue to silver to gold.

“Hold still,” he said, his voice gentle once more.

Silas bent his head slightly, allowing Thorne to braid the flower into his hair. The gesture had become tradition, a visible mark of protection that forest creatures recognized. More than once, Silas had noticed how paths opened easier for him when he wore Thorne's flowers, how even the trees seemed to acknowledge his passage with more respect.

He reached up in turn, adjusting Thorne's crown of living branches. A wayward twig had sprouted tiny leaves overnight, and Silas carefully straightened it. “There. Properly imposing again.”

Thorne caught his hand before he could lower it, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “Ready?”

“No,” Silas admitted, stepping closer for one more embrace. “But let's go anyway.”

Their kiss lingered, deep and slow, neither wanting to be the first to pull away. Finally, Silas broke contact with visible effort. They walked hand in hand from the sanctuary, emerging into the wider forest where morning birds had finally begun their songs.

Thornhaven Manor rose before them as they approached, its Gothic architecture somehow perfect against the wild backdrop of the Eldergrove. The manor had changed since Silas and Thorne had become lovers. Vines that once grew wild now formed deliberate patterns around windows. Flowers bloomed in organized chaos along the walkways. The very stones seemed warmer, more welcoming.

Inside, the dining room showed similar transformations. Morning glories framed the windows, opening to greet the sun. The ancient wooden table gleamed with new polish, and the air smelled of fresh bread and herbs rather than dust and neglect.

Kai looked up from his breakfast as they entered, his grin widening at the sight of them. “Well, well. The lovebirds finally surface.”

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