Page 6 of Shattered Crown

Royal banners snapped in the wind alongside colors Silas knew too well—the crimson and gold of House Ashworth. His father's personal guard. At least two hundred men moved with practiced discipline between neat rows of tents. Supply wagons suggested this wasn't a temporary position.

“That's...” Silas swallowed hard. “That's my father's command tent.”

The elaborate pavilion stood at the camp's center, its peaked roof adorned with the Ashworth crest. Lord Thomas had been here. Recently, judging by the fresh wheel ruts leading to it.

“Well, family reunions are always awkward,” Kai muttered. “But I'm more worried about them.”

He pointed to figures in silver-threaded robes moving among the soldiers. Silas froze, confusion warring with recognition.

“Those look like... but that's impossible,” Silas whispered. “The Crown doesn't acknowledge magic exists. It's been the official stance for generations.”

“Tell that to them,” Kai replied grimly. “Those are definitely mages. And not just any mages—see the silver threading? King's colors.”

“But the king himself claims magic died out centuries ago. It's been royal doctrine since?—”

“Since your family helped establish it?” Kai raised an eyebrow. “Come on, Silas. You're smarter than this. When has the Crown ever told the complete truth about anything?”

Silas watched the robed figures setting up ritual circles at the forest's edge. Even from this distance, he could see the components they used—iron filings that made his teeth ache, salt barriers that sparked with contained power, and something dark and granular that looked sickeningly like grave soil.

“Those aren't defensive wards,” Silas realized. “And they're not hiding what they're doing. This is deliberate.”

“Which means the game has changed,” Kai agreed. “The question is, why now? Why suddenly acknowledge what they've denied for generations?”

The crystal pulsed against Silas's chest, responding to his rising alarm. He closed his eyes, reaching for the connection it provided, and felt Thorne's distant presence like a hand on his shoulder.

“We need to know more,” Silas decided. “Cover me?”

Kai nodded, already scanning for the best approach. They'd done this before, back when exposing corruption meant sneaking through noble houses instead of military camps.

Silas crept closer, using every shadow, every fold in the land. The skills Kai had taught him blended with new instincts born from his time in the Eldergrove. He moved like the forest creatures now, silent and sure.

Fragments of conversation drifted to him:

“...barrier's weakest at moonrise...”

“...young Ashworth must be retrieved...”

“...lord's orders are clear. Neutralize the guardian...”

Ice flooded his veins. The clinical way they discussed Thorne, as if he were merely an obstacle to be removed, made bile rise in his throat. These were his father's men, following his father's orders, planning to hurt the person he loved.

The crystal burned hot against his skin.

A twig snapped behind him. Silas froze, then slowly turned to find a patrol passing barely twenty feet away. Without thinking, he reached for the forest magic Thorne had taught him, silently asking the plants for help.

The response was immediate. Vines shifted, branches lowered, creating a dense screen that perfectly concealed him. But the ease of the magic drew attention.

One of the mages stopped mid-step, head tilting. “Did you feel that?”

“Feel what?” his companion asked.

“A surge. Forest magic, but...” The mage turned slowly, scanning the treeline. “Different. Familiar.”

Silas held his breath, willing himself invisible. The plants trembled with his anxiety.

“You're imagining things,” the second mage said. “Come on, we need to finish the third circle before nightfall.”

They moved on, but Silas didn't relax until they were well out of sight. He retreated carefully to where Kai waited with the horses.

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