A crown gained through betrayal will cut the head of the man who wears it.Julian stepped up to the iron gate at the base of the winding stairs, taking hold of the heavy crossbar with both hands. "Pull on my mark, Thorn. The hinges are stiff from the old dust."Thorn placed his hand beside Julian's, his leather glove gripping the cold metal. "Three, two, one."With a loud, grating screech that shook loose a shower of fine stone dust, they pulled the heavy iron bar free from the wall slots and shoved the gate outward. The path up to the council chamber stood open, silent and dark beneath the cracked ceiling blocks."I will lead," Julian said, picking up a intact iron torch from a wall bracket near the stairs. "The guards at the top will recognize my voice before they see my face.""Keep your sword sheathed," Thorn advised, his dark eyes following the flickering yellow flame up the narrow spiral. "We do not want a panic in the hall.""They will not panic if I tell them the elders failed