Page 42 of Shattered Crown

The act of shielding created immediate distance. The comforting presence of Silas in his mind dimmed to barely a whisper. For the first time since their bonding, Thorne felt truly alone.

This is how it begins, the shadow entity whispered gleefully.

First you shield him from pain, then from difficult truths, then from yourself entirely. Distance grows until love becomes memory, memory becomes myth.

“Never,” Thorne swore, but his voice lacked conviction.

10

POLITICAL THORNS

The hidden council chamber beneath the city smelled of old stone and desperation. Carved from bedrock centuries ago, the room had witnessed countless conspiracies, rebellions, and desperate last stands. Now it played host to yet another gathering of the desperate and disillusioned, all looking to Silas for leadership he wasn't sure he could provide.

Nobles from lesser houses clustered in small groups, their fine clothes wrinkled from hurried travel through servant passages. Military officers in civilian dress stood stiffly at attention, years of training evident in their bearing despite the lack of uniforms. All of them carried the same expression: a mixture of hope and fear that made Silas's stomach churn.

“They're looking at you like you're their salvation,” Kai whispered from his position slightly behind Silas's right shoulder. “No pressure or anything.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” Silas muttered, touching the living bracelet on his wrist. The tendrils of shadow and starlight shifted against his skin, pulsing with Thorne's heartbeat. It was his anchor in this sea of political scheming, a reminder of what truly mattered.

Diana stood at the chamber's entrance, directing newcomers with military precision. She'd changed from her uniform into nondescript clothing, but her authority remained unmistakable. As the last stragglers entered, she sealed the door with a complex series of locks and wards.

“That's everyone who could make it,” she announced, moving to stand beside Silas. “At least everyone we can trust.”

The gathered nobles fell silent as Silas stepped forward. He'd spent the morning practicing what to say, but now all his carefully prepared words felt hollow. These people had risked everything to be here. They deserved more than empty platitudes.

“Thank you for coming,” he began, his voice steadier than he felt. “I know what you've risked to be here. Sebastian's spies are everywhere, and the penalty for opposing him...”

“Is death,” Lord Blackwood finished grimly. The elderly noble had lost two sons to Sebastian's purges already. “We know the stakes, Lord Ashworth. What we need to know is if you have a plan.”

Before Silas could respond, the chamber's far door opened with a whisper of well-oiled hinges. Lady Evangeline swept in, her presence commanding immediate attention despite her advanced years. Two figures flanked her, both wearing the subtle gray of her personal guard.

“Forgive my lateness,” she said, though her tone suggested she'd timed her entrance perfectly. “I had to ensure we weren't followed.”

She moved to the chamber's center, producing a leather portfolio from beneath her cloak. “I believe I can answer Lord Blackwood's question about plans.” With theatrical flair, she spread documents across the ancient stone table.

The assembled nobles leaned forward as one, examining the evidence she'd brought. Correspondence between Sebastian and unknown parties, financial records showing mysterious payments, reports from spies Silas hadn't known existed. The scope of her intelligence network stunned everyone, himself included.

“All this time… you were laying the groundwork,” he said, looking at his grandmother with new eyes.

“Since before you were born, dear boy.” Her smile held edges sharp enough to cut. “The Ashworth name has been corrupted for generations. It was only a matter of time before someone like Sebastian tried to seize power.”

She pointed to one particular document, a report bearing a seal Silas didn't recognize. “This is what concerns me most. Sebastian has been meeting with foreign mages, practitioners of binding magic outlawed in every civilized kingdom.”

“To what end?” Diana asked, studying the report.

“To enslave the guardian permanently,” Evangeline replied.

The living bracelet tightened around Silas's wrist, responding to his spike of fear. He reached for his bond, seeking reassurance, but found only muted distance. The connection remained, but it felt muffled, as if Thorne had wrapped it in layers of cotton.

“He's shielding me,” Silas realized aloud, drawing confused looks from the others. “Thorne. He's blocking our bond.”

“Probably trying to protect you from feeling whatever shit's going down in the forest,” Kai suggested, though his casual tone didn't hide his concern.

A messenger burst into the chamber, breathing hard from running. “My lords, my ladies,” he gasped. “Sebastian has made his move. He's declared himself regent, claiming the king named him successor before...” He glanced at Silas. “Before his current condition.”

“That's impossible,” Lord Blackwood sputtered. “The king still lives. He can't name a successor while incapacitated.”

“Tell that to Sebastian,” the messenger replied. “He's already issuing decrees. Including one declaring all guardian forests enemy territory.”

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