Page 13 of Crown of Iron (The Crown Trilogy #1)
Eight
T he first orange and fuchsia rays of sunlight peek over the horizon when I slip into the stables.
I'm not sure when Kyron plans to head out on his secret mission, but I want to be ready when he does.
This might be my only chance to get the upper hand on him.
I've already wasted too much time playing by Kyron's rules, allowing his soldiers to jerk me around.
And with each of those fruitless days, Micah grows closer to coming for me, and my father inches closer to his demise.
It's time I take control and put a plan into action.
The smell of livestock and the stomping of hooves greets me as I walk down the row of stalls.
Dry hay crunches under each step, making them sound menacing and surer than they really are.
I set out on a bold journey almost a week ago, ready to face any challenge that came my way.
My resolve was set. I would defy my king and march into Stigian on a rescue mission.
Suddenly, those plans seem harmless in comparison to what I have planned for today.
Selecting a saddle from its hook on the wall, I stop in front of Nortus and hold out an apple. His head appears over the wooden railing, and he presses the bridge of his nose to my forehead.
“Are you feeling up to an adventure today?” I ask him, and he responds by taking the apple from my fingers .
I scratch behind his ear while he chomps away on his treat.
Some days, Nortus is the only friendly face I see.
He’s a constant assurance in a place riddled with uncertainty, a reminder of home.
It's like he senses how much I miss my family, and he doesn't mind anchoring me to memories of those I love most. Until I arrived at Basecamp, I had not gone a day of my life without seeing at least one of my family members. I miss sword fighting with Rowan, looking at new dresses with Salone, and reading bedtime stories to Ansley. But most of all, I miss my mother. I’d give anything to hear her gently correct me or her sound advice.
I realize now how much I put into my duties as future heir.
I took for granted my family's presence, trusting they would always be there.
Now, my father's horse is the only being tethering me to those I love most.
After securing the saddle onto Nortus' back, I give him a rub along his nose and slip out of his stall.
I need to stay hidden but also appear busy caring for the horses in case I'm caught.
I take a brush from the nails hammered into the wooden wall and move down the hay-lined row.
When I reach the last stall, I remove my uniform jacket and pull my tunic's sleeves to my elbows.
The horse inside the fence bats his big brown eyes and snorts.
“Good morning to you, Mr. Samson,” I say, opening the gate and stepping inside.
He nuzzles his nose into the side of my neck. I duck in an attempt to step out of his reach. He hasn't given me trouble since that first day. It turns out all the ornery old horse needed was a stern talking to and a few apples. We’re now friends.
Samson follows me, continuing his greeting.
I push at his head, saying, “At least buy me dinner first.”
He bristles and stands tall, ready for what has become our daily routine.
I lift the brush and stroke it through his black mane.
He and Nortus have become my stress relievers.
I stop by the stables or corrals several times a day.
It doesn't matter how much I ache or how tired I am, they have a way of making me forget.
They shower me with attention and listen while I voice my frustrations.
The horses are my tiny reprieve in endless, grueling days.
Not that everything is barked orders and pure intimidation.
Up until last night, I thought I was making progress with Kyron's top officers. Although Ulric and Terro handed me over to the farming unit of retired soldiers and their spouses, they occasionally check on me, but I wish I had more time to talk with them. When I’m working the gardens, I can see them training with the other soldiers.
The maneuvers look grueling, but I’m eager to join the others.
But after what I overheard, I wonder if I’ll ever get the chance.
Despite the death-glare she gives me each night I pass her room, Greer isn't completely terrible. In fact, I think I understand her a bit. Around here, the most respected are not necessarily the biggest, strongest, or fastest; it’s those who can lead and fight.
As Kyron's second in command, she spends day in and day out proving she is worthy of her rank. From what I’ve witnessed, she does a damn fine job of it.
I've seen her take down people double her size during drills, and she didn't even become short of breath. I respect her even if she’ll never see me as worthy to be under her command.
Brushing off the negative thoughts, I dig in my satchel for a treat while Samson rubs the top of his head against my shoulder. “Who knew you were such a lover, Sammy?” I kiss his nose and hand him an apple.
“Or just a con artist, who has finally learned how to get fed by a pretty girl.”
I spin around, my heart hammering in my chest.
Kyron props his arms on top of the stall's gate with a stoic expression. His power surges, nudging at me, pleading to let it in so it can pull me down into its warm darkness. Part of me considers giving into its lure, letting it lull me into its sinister embrace.
I take a step back and busy myself with rubbing the side of the horse's face. “It gets lonely out here. He just needed to know someone cared.”
“He's a warhorse.”
I turn my attention fully to the animal. “Even those who have fought in the most gruesome wars need love. Don't they, Sammy?”
He stomps a hoof and presses his cheek to mine.
Kyron releases the lock on the gate with a flick of his wrist and steps inside the stall.
A chill runs up my spine. The effects of the general's powers are a mixture of adrenaline and nausea inside of me. How can others feel this way around him and still think he has the best intentions for Lucent? I could never trust someone who unsettles me so much. Which leads me to wonder what sinister quest he’s setting out on this morning.
Kyron hoists a heavy black saddle onto Samson's back .
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Taking my?horse out for a ride.” He pats him on the side of the neck and Samson proudly bristles.
When he bends down to tighten the saddle around the horse’s body, I mouth the words you could have warned me .
I'd spent the last few days pouring my heart out to the animal. He knows every deep, dark concern I have for his rider. Yet, he just carries on eating my apples and nuzzling my neck. Maybe he is a swindler just like his owner says, and I’ve been the fool who has fallen for it.
Kyron stands and brushes the hay from his knees.
A need to protect my new animal friend surges within me. “Isn't Samson a little too old to be on the battlefield? He has to be about fifteen.”
“Now you're an expert in horses?” he asks.
“No, but I'm very familiar with them.”
He pets the animal's hindquarter while looking him over. “He's twelve. I started training him myself when he was a colt. I'm sure he still has a few good years left in him.”
“My father always went on about how something magical happens when you teach a wild horse to trust you. Training horses was one of his favorite things to do.”
I clamp my mouth shut and puff my cheeks, unsure why I felt compelled to share a memory.
The last thing I should do is waste time pretending we are on cordial terms, but it's been so long since I spoke about my father without discussing his current situation.
For a year, every thought has been of him with the Stigian queen, bending to her will, letting her drain him of his power.
This isn't the time for self-realization, to understand I've been so caught up in where my father is that I've done a dishonor to who he is.
The general needs to be on his way, and I need to keep my mouth shut. The sooner he's on his horse, the sooner I can mount mine and follow him.
I bite the inside of my lip, fighting the urge to growl in frustration, and walk past him. “Well, don't let me hold you up. Enjoy your ride,” I say, forcing myself to sound blasé.
“Thanks,” he grunts and leads Samson out of the stable.
As soon as the doors close behind him, I run for Nortus' stall and grip his reins.
Keeping my horse behind me at the door, I peer out through the wooden slats.
Kyron climbs onto Samson's saddle and spurs him into motion. I push the doors open and rush my horse out. After securing the stable, I climb onto Nortus and wait until Kyron is far enough ahead that he won’t hear us chasing him.
The general is a blur of brown and black with a horse's tail, racing through the forest surrounding Basecamp.
He darts around trees and ducks under branches.
His easy movements show that he has taken this path many times.
The same can't be said for me. Leaves smack me in the face and Nortus' jerky movements to avoid rocks and trunks jostle me around the saddle.
More than once, I fear I'll end up on my ass on the forest floor.
Tall grass and a lake greet us when we break free of the woods.
Kyron and Samson run toward the water's edge, but I steer Nortus along the treeline for quick cover.
The blue water of the lake reflects the early morning sun, every ray glimmering off its still surface.
Birds sing a sweet song in the trees and butterflies flutter above the purple and yellow wildflowers.
I wish I could spur Nortus into a gallop outside the shadows and bask in the fresh air and light.