Page 80 of Shattered Crown

“I decided to protect what was mine.” Steel entered Thomas's voice. “You have no idea what pressures we faced. Other nations threatened war if magical influences grew too strong. Noble houses demanded pure human rule. The church preached about divine order.”

“So you lied. To everyone. To me.”

“Yes.” No apology, just cold fact.

Lady Evangeline placed a restraining hand on Silas's shoulder. “There were considerations beyond your understanding, Silas. Decisions made before your birth that could not be easily unmade.”

“I didn't create this system,” Thomas said, eyes fixed on Silas with the same calculating assessment he'd always used. “I inherited it, just as you would have.”

The comparison sparked anger in Silas's chest. “You chose to send me away. I didn't choose any of this.”

“Your choices forced my hand,” Thomas replied, unmoved. “Exposed corruption. Challenged authority. Rejected your position. What did you expect? Praise?”

“I expected honesty! From my father, if not my king.”

“The two cannot be separated. Not for us.” Thomas's expression hardened further. “You would have learned that, had you followed the path laid for you.”

Silas stood abruptly, needing distance. He paced to the window, looking out over gardens he'd once played in. Everything seemed smaller now, constrained by walls and tradition.

“Why summon me now?” he asked without turning. “Why speak of any of this?”

Thomas was silent so long that Silas thought he might not answer. When he finally spoke, his voice carried something unfamiliar—not warmth, but perhaps less ice.

“Sebastian...” Thomas paused, seemingly searching for words. “Sebastian proved that isolation creates vulnerabilities. The shadow corruption exploits division.”

“A tactical reassessment, then.” Silas turned back, searching his father's face for any hint of deeper meaning. He found calculation, exhaustion, and something unreadable behind the careful mask.

“Call it what you will,” Thomas replied. “Facts remain. Your... connection with the guardian provided resistance that traditional forces could not.”

“You mean we survived when your armies failed.”

A muscle twitched in Thomas's jaw. “Results speak for themselves. The situation requires... adaptation.”

Lady Evangeline stepped forward. “What your father means, beneath his pride, is that you've demonstrated an effective approach. One worth exploring further.”

“Is that what he means?” Silas fixed his gaze on Thomas. “Or is he just seeking another weapon against Sebastian? The same Sebastian you worked with before he turned against you, the same man you conspired with to try to separate me from Thorne.”

A muscle in Thomas's jaw tightened, but he didn't deny the accusation. “You're right to question my motives,” he admitted after a moment. “Sebastian and I... we made choices I now regret. But does it matter? Our objectives align for now.”

“For now,” Silas repeated. “Until they don't.”

“Such is politics.” Thomas gestured to the bandages beneath his robes. “The shadow corruption lingers in these wounds, fighting the healers' efforts. I can barely stand for more than an hour. It gives one... perspective.”

The admission surprised Silas, not for its content but for the rare glimpse of vulnerability. “And Nathaniel? He's here, in the palace. The man you exiled decades ago.”

Thomas's expression closed immediately. “A necessary concession. His knowledge of corruption could prove useful.”

“He saved our lives. Multiple times.”

“So I'm told.”

Lady Evangeline intervened. “Nathaniel has requested an audience this afternoon. After nearly twenty years, surely you can spare him an hour, Thomas.”

“Has he?” Thomas's voice carried an edge. “Still presumptuous after all these years.”

“Still family,” Silas countered. “Despite everything you did to him.”

The door opened before Thomas could respond. Nathaniel entered, moving slowly but with dignity. He'd dressed formally, every inch the noble despite years of exile.

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