Page 86 of Shattered Crown

“Most truth becomes legend given enough time,” Nathaniel replied. “But the magical signatures remain valid. We could reactivate certain provisions.”

They spent the next hour discussing possibilities. Silas marveled at how Nathaniel positioned each point as a logical extension of existing policy rather than revolutionary change—speaking Thomas's language of pragmatism and tradition.

Lady Evangeline swept in as they finished, her presence commanding attention despite her small stature. “I've arranged private meetings with key noble families,” she announced. “Small gatherings where you can address concerns personally, Silas.”

“Damage control?” he asked.

“Relationship building,” she corrected. “Fear breeds in isolation. Let them see you, hear your reasoning directly. Many remember you as a boy. Show them the leader you've become.”

“A sound approach,” Thomas agreed, surprising Silas with his support. “Your mother employed similar methods during the northern border disputes. Personal connection changes minds where formal pronouncements fail.”

Another reference to Queen Rose. Silas noted the pattern carefully. His mother's memory represented neutral ground between them—respected by both, politically safer than addressing their own wounded relationship directly.

The advice proved sound. Throughout the day, Silas met with various factions, adapting his approach to each audience. With military leaders, he emphasized tactical advantages. With merchants, economic opportunities. With religious representatives, carefully selected passages from his mother's theological correspondence.

Training sessions in the palace yards offered visible proof of progress. Human soldiers worked alongside those few who could channel forest magic, initial awkwardness giving way to cautious cooperation. Silas watched a young lieutenant learn to channel forest energy through his sword, the blade glowing with ethereal light—a technique Thorne had taught Silas to share with trusted allies.

“Never thought I'd see the day,” muttered Captain Reynolds, standing beside Silas.

“Afraid of change, Captain?”

“Terrified,” the man admitted. “But more afraid of what happens if we don't change.”

* * *

Amid the quiet preparations,Thomas approached Silas and touched his arm.

“Walk with me,” he said quietly.

They found themselves in the king's private garden, a place Silas hadn't visited since childhood. Night-blooming flowers perfumed the air, their pale petals luminous in moonlight.

“Your mother planted these,” Thomas said, touching a delicate bloom. His voice carried something Silas rarely heard—genuine emotion beneath the calculated control. “Said they reminded her of stars.”

“I remember,” Silas replied softly. “She used to bring me here to tell stories.”

Thomas settled onto a stone bench, gesturing for Silas to join him. For a moment, they sat in silence, the garden creating neutral territory between them.

“She would have handled this crisis differently,” Thomas said finally. “With more grace, less friction.”

“She believed in building bridges,” Silas agreed carefully. “In finding unity without losing identity.”

“Yes. I never had her vision.” Thomas looked toward the flowers rather than at Silas. “I ruled through control and separation. It seemed safer.”

“Mother said that safety without growth becomes stagnation.”

Thomas's expression shifted slightly. “You remember her words well.”

“They helped me survive Thornhaven. Understand what happened there.” Silas paused. “Did you know? About what truly happened between Marcus and Thorne?”

“Fragments. Whispers. Mother guarded those secrets carefully.”

“They were partners in every sense,” Silas said. “Until fear and ambition tore them apart. History repeating itself, but with different choices.”

Thomas absorbed this revelation in silence, his face revealing nothing. “Your mother would have seen the poetry in that. She always believed in patterns, in chances to correct past mistakes.”

“She also believed that understanding comes before judgment,” Silas ventured. “I've tried to follow that example with you, despite everything.”

The implicit accusation hung between them. Thomas stared at the flowers for a long moment before responding.

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