Page 8 of Shattered Crown

“I'm not some delicate flower that needs protecting,” Silas snapped, trying to pull away.

Thorne's response was to pin him against the wall, crushing their mouths together in a kiss that tasted of desperation and fear. Silas made a sound of protest that quickly melted into something else entirely as Thorne's hands slid into his hair, tilting his head for better access.

“I cannot lose you,” Thorne growled against his lips. “Not to him. Not to anyone.”

The raw vulnerability in his voice undid Silas completely. He stopped fighting, instead pulling Thorne closer, giving as good as he got. Their magic surged and merged, sending papers flying, knocking chairs over.

“Uh, I'll just...” Kai's voice came from the doorway. “Yeah. Be literally anywhere else.”

The door closed hastily behind him.

When they finally separated, breathing hard, Silas rested his forehead against Thorne's. “This isn't just about us anymore. If Sebastian has truly united those houses and convinced my father to use magic openly, something fundamental has changed in the kingdom.”

“The question is why now?” Thorne's voice had calmed, though frost still rimmed the windows. “After centuries of denying magic's existence, why would the Crown suddenly embrace what they've condemned?”

“Fear,” Silas said softly. “Or opportunity. Perhaps both.” He moved back to the map, tracing the pattern of incursions. “Sebastian wouldn't risk this without being certain of success. He's always been calculating.”

“You know him well?”

“We grew up together at court. He was... different once. Ambitious, yes, but not cruel.” Silas's expression darkened with memory. “Something changed after his mother died.”

“Whatever their reasons,” Thorne said, joining him at the map, “we need to prepare. If they're willing to acknowledge magic after generations of denial, they won't stop at simple incursions.”

“They want the Eldergrove itself,” Silas realized. “Its power, its resources.”

“And they'll have to go through us to get it.”

The weight of what they faced settled between them, terrible and unavoidable. War had come to the forest's edge, and neither diplomacy nor denial would turn it away.

* * *

Thorne ledhim to parts of Thornhaven he'd never seen, down winding stairs that seemed to descend far deeper than the manor's foundation should allow. The air grew thick with age and power.

“These chambers predate the manor itself,” Thorne explained, his hand warm in Silas's. “Built when the first bridge between realms was forged.”

They emerged into a vast cavern where crystalline structures pulsed with faint light. Each was taller than a man, arranged in precise geometric patterns that hurt Silas's eyes if he looked too long.

“Beautiful,” he breathed.

“Deadly,” Thorne corrected. “When active, they channel the forest's full power. Nothing uninvited could pass.”

“How do we activate them?”

Thorne's answer was to pull him close, positioning Silas's hands on the nearest crystal. “Together. Your blood carries the key, but my magic provides the spark.”

He covered Silas's hands with his own, and suddenly Silas could feel it—the dormant power humming beneath his palms, waiting to be awakened.

“Focus,” Thorne murmured in his ear. “Feel the patterns. Let them flow through you.”

It was like learning to dance, following Thorne's lead as magic moved between them. Each crystal they awakened strengthened their connection, made their combined power burn brighter.

By the third crystal, Silas was trembling from the intensity. By the fifth, he could barely stand. Thorne supported him, one arm around his waist, their bodies pressed together as magic coursed through them both.

“Too much?” Thorne asked, concern evident.

“No,” Silas managed. “Just... intense.”

They were approaching the final crystal when Silas noticed an irregularity in the chamber wall. A seam that didn't match the natural stone.

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