Page 43 of Shattered Crown

Silas snatched the proclamation from the messenger's hands, scanning it quickly. His blood ran cold as he read the order for “total magical conscription”—forcing all beings with power into service of the crown. The implications were staggering.

“He wants to control all magic in the kingdom.”

“Which is why we must act now,” Evangeline declared. She turned to face the assembled nobles. “My grandson has the strongest legal claim to regency. If he challenges Sebastian formally, it forces a hearing before the noble houses.”

“A hearing Sebastian will surely corrupt,” Diana pointed out.

“Perhaps,” Evangeline conceded. “But it buys us time and forces him to defend his claim publicly. Every lie he tells becomes a weapon we can use against him.”

The room erupted in debate. Some supported the plan, others argued for more direct action. Silas listened with half an ear, his thoughts drifting to Thorne. The partial silence of their bond felt like a missing limb, an absence that left him off-balance and uncertain.

You chose your forest over us, whispered a voice that sounded disturbingly like the shadow entity.Left me to handle this alone while you play guardian.

Silas shook his head, trying to dispel the poisonous thoughts. Thorne hadn't abandoned him. They'd made this choice together, each fighting where they were needed most. But doubt had found fertile ground in his isolation.

“Silas?” Kai's hand on his shoulder brought him back to the present. “They're waiting for your decision.”

He looked around the chamber, seeing expectation on every face. These people had placed their lives in his hands, trusting him to lead them against Sebastian's tyranny. The weight of responsibility pressed down like a physical force.

“We'll do it,” he said finally. “I'll challenge Sebastian's claim formally.”

The decision made, the meeting shifted to practical matters. Legal scholars were summoned to craft the perfect challenge, each word scrutinized for potential weakness. Silas found himself swept into preparations, barely having time to think as advisors dressed him in formal court attire.

* * *

The throne roomseethed beneath its ceremonial polish.

Sunlight filtered through high stained-glass windows, casting fractured colors across the marble floor and the assembled nobility. Gold-threaded banners hung stiff against the walls, the kingdom's crest fluttering like a wound trying to stay closed. Courtiers stood in rigid clusters, fanning themselves not for heat but to signal allegiances. The air crackled with whispers and expectation.

At the center, seated just below the true throne, was Sebastian.

He wore the regent's mantle with the arrogance of someone born expecting it. His posture was casual, legs crossed, one hand curled around the lion-headed cane that once belonged to the former king's chief advisor. He did not sit on the throne itself—no, not yet—but he let his gaze rest on it, as if calculating how soon it might be his.

Then the doors opened.

Silas entered with slow, deliberate steps. Diana walked to his left, Elena to his right. Behind them, Kai lingered at a respectful distance, eyes scanning the chamber like a hawk. The room silenced itself as though under a spell.

Sebastian's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. “Well, well. The would-be regicide returns. Come to finish what you started at the hunt?”

Silas's hand twitched, but he kept his voice level. “I come to challenge your claim to regency.”

His voice rang through the chamber—measured, clear, and courtly. Every noble turned to look, the weight of old bloodlines stirring in their minds.

Sebastian leaned back in his chair, amusement sharpening to interest. “By all means, cousin. Entertain us.”

“I invoke the right of petition,” Silas continued. “As direct blood of House Ashworth, I demand that the High Council review the legality of your appointment.”

Now the court murmured louder. Sebastian's mouth twitched.

“The king named me successor in his final conscious command.”

“He never abdicated. He never died. That means the law defaults to the next of blood—unless they refuse. I never did.”

“You vanished. You opposed crown policy. You bred treason with every guardian-lover fantasy.”

“I saw what you became at the hunt,” Silas shot back, rage finally bleeding through.

The court rippled with shocked murmurs. Sebastian's casual facade cracked.

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