Page 18 of Crown of Iron (The Crown Trilogy #1)

Ten

G reer leans in her doorway, a hand on her hip and her eyes following my every movement as I make my way through the quiet hallway.

I can't believe she waited up for me. Kyron must have given her strict orders to make sure I returned to my room every night.

If only she knew what I'd been up to all day.

I wonder if she would be more surprised to learn that I spied on the general, or that my punishment for Kyron catching me was to clean a washroom.

I'm sure she would say he went too easy on me, and she would be right.

“Where have you been all day?” she asks.

“Don't worry, I was doing the bidding of our fierce leader.” It's not a complete lie, but there’s no need for her to learn how I came to do his bidding. Besides, if Kyron wants her to know, he’ll tell her. I open my door and wave at her over my shoulder. “Goodnight, Colonel.”

She huffs and steps inside her quarters.

Removing my jacket, I cross my small room.

My living space is nothing like Leif's. A bed sits against the wall with a four-drawer dresser at the foot of it.

My other accommodations are limited to a multipurpose table for two and a washroom.

It's bland, functional, and better than sleeping in the stables.

I complete my nightly routine and crawl under the soft sheets, sinking into the mattress.

With my arms folded over my stomach, I stare at the ceiling.

My mind flashes through thoughts like lightning during a storm.

I came here with a single focus, but as the days carry on, things grow complicated.

The people around me divide my attention, and my purpose feels lost in the chaos of Basecamp.

My biggest concern is still Kyron. Everything I witnessed today replays in my head.

I don't dwell too long on the kindness he showed Shianne and her children. It may have been his guilt that drove him to her doorstep, but it’s clear to see that Blaze and Mia are the main reason he returns every other week.

The compassion and attentiveness he shows the two goes beyond sorrow and earning forgiveness.

Superseding the thoughts of his gentler side I saw today are the questions about his gifts.

I can't stop thinking about them. This is on the verge of being obsessive, but his power is intense.

Tonight, it was demanding, drawing me in, and I couldn't get enough.

If I wouldn't appear insane, I could have curled up on his lap and basked in the addictive feeling all night.

“Shit,” I whisper, shaking the image from my head.

I've never understood why the lure of a comfortable life keeps Cyffreds in Stigian. Beautiful things and a carefree life can't always be worth the draining of their power and ultimately death. But if they are feeling what I do around Kyron, I get it. Maybe it’s an addiction of their own.

There are countless theories about how the Stigians siphon power, but no official confirmation.

It's feared if our people know how siphoning power works, the curiosity of some will get the better of them. We can’t cross that line, or we’ll battle within our walls and the foundation of our free kingdom will crumble.

Kyron could only earn those black eyes in Stigian.

He knows what me and so many others don't. What if he is siphoning gifts and everyone is so enraptured with the sensation that he emanates they didn't even know? Maybe it’s why the soldiers follow him so blindly.

Did he siphon from my father, and he is the reason he left our family?

Did he do the same to me tonight? It's the only explanation that makes sense.

“Asshole.” I punch my pillow and turn onto my side.

The rest of my night is much of the same, flopping around and cursing Kyron. I question my theory, poking holes in it, only to confirm I have no idea what’s going on. But something isn't right about Kyron LeFur.

Despite not getting a wink of sleep, I'm up before daylight and ready to fight.

The sun sits behind the horizon, casting orange rays across a cobalt sky.

The crisp breeze catches my ponytail, swinging it to match the tempo of the sword on my hip.

I march past the obstacle course and the archery range, and when I reach the sparring field, three familiar faces await me.

Kyron's top-ranking officers have each put their own spin on their officer's uniform.

Terro has buttoned his thigh-length olive jacket all the way up, each brassy button glittering in the sun.

The jacket Ulric wears has seen better days, tattered around the cuffs, and left open to display the cream tunic underneath.

But it's Greer who looks like she is ready to kick ass and ask questions later.

A black belt cinches her jacket together and holds a sheath housing a wicked-looking knife.

Buckles and small compartments run down the outside of her thigh-high boots to store smaller weapons.

The trio has gone all out for today's event.

Terro throws his arm around my shoulders and flashes a boyish grin. “I'm in awe of you, Elle. No one has ever faced Kyron their first time on the field.”

My stone-like expression doesn't waver as I lift his arm and step out from under it.

I know where loyalties lie with the three.

No matter how brave they think I am for challenging Kyron, they will always remain on his side.

But I also can't forget how Terro and Ulric stood up for my work ethic with Kyron during the conversation I overheard.

Maybe there is hope of swaying them to my side. Today will be the tipping point.

Greer smooths the braid that starts above her forehead and ends over one shoulder.

She steps toward me, and I force my feet to remain planted.

Leaning in and looking past my shoulder, she whispers, “He's fast, with quick swings and small steps. If you feel overwhelmed, make him reach for you, it’ll buy you some time.” With that, she walks to the other side of the field.

“She likes ya,” Ulric says, patting me on the back.

“She has a funny way of showing it,” I reply.

I wish it were true. Greer would be a powerhouse player in a rescue mission. She is strong and takes no shit from her soldiers. Having someone like her in my corner would make me feel unstoppable, but that's a hurdle to overcome on another day. Right now, I have a general's ass to kick.

“Where's Kyron?” I ask.

“Finishing up on a morning briefing. He'll be here,” Terro says, turning to look behind him .

Soldiers flood out of the living quarters with exuberant laughter and buzzing power. Not one of them heads for breakfast in the mess hall. All eyes are on the field where they hope to witness a spectacle of a fight.

“Is nothing a secret around here?” I say, glaring at the group headed our way.

Ulric crams his hands in his jacket pockets. “This is quite the occasion. Kyron normally trains alone and the only time he wields a sword is on the battlefield. It's not every day they get to see his skill on display.”

“Statera help me,” I mutter.

My insides flip and bubble like a nasty concoction ready to burst. I didn't consider how trained Kyron is with a sword. During morning drills, he’s never on the field.

A part of me hoped that he was comfortable in his high position and his skills rusty.

I pace the distance between the two officers, watching as almost every soldier closes the distance between us.

Gaggles of people line the outer edges of the field, standing on tiptoes to see from the back. They wave fists of coins in the air, setting wagers about how long it will take me to fall.

My pacing stops when a bulky figure pushes through the crowd, his sandy hair disheveled, and his uniform hanging haphazardly.

Leif stalks across the field, grabs my arm, and pulls me aside. “Are you crazy?”

“No,” I say, ripping away from his grip. “This is what I have to do if I want to train.”

“There's no way you're going to beat him, and all these people are here to watch him wipe this field with your ass.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Elle, I know better than anyone that you can hold your own in a sparring ring, but Kyron is different. Not many soldiers can take him out, especially not a new one.”

Challenging Kyron is a longshot. I have nothing to gauge him on and the only advice I have, I received from a woman who hasn't so much as smiled at me. This might be a fool's errand, but I've got to try.

“Give me another option that will put me in a better position to start training,” I say.

Leif opens and closes his mouth, but nothing comes out. It's clear this is my only option.

I spin on my heels, saying, “I have to do this. ”

My retreat comes to a crashing halt. The solid roadblock knocks the breath from me, and I stumble back.

Firm fingers clench my shoulders to steady me, and I lift my chin, taking in the black unlaced tunic and matching leather jacket.

My gaze sweeps over Kyron's strong jaw, his full lips with a perfect Cupid's bow, and his eyes…

they are like the sun setting against a midnight sky, hindered by a new moon.

“You're late.” I mean the words to criticize, but they flow from my lips with an airy exhale. That feeling, invoked by his touch and the stroke of his gifts, sizzles through me. Despite my questions last night, I take a moment to gather myself and step out of his hold.

“So I am.” He sidesteps me and nods at Leif. “I just received word your fiancée has gone missing.”

I stiffen, locking my gaze on a cabinet housing an array of wooden weapons. This is it; my time at Basecamp is coming to an end. Instead of a showdown with Kyron, I’m going to be sent home to face off with Micah.

“What do you mean she's gone missing?” Leif replies, not missing a beat. He even sounds concerned. This is the kind of situation he knows how to maneuver through without causing alarm.

“No one has seen her in almost a week. Her family says she’s gone to the Sibyl Temple, but no one has been able to find her there.”

“A week?” Leif's eyes dart toward me. “Why am I only hearing about this now?”

“It appears the king was giving her a moment to get her thoughts together before he sent his guard to find her. You don't happen to know where she might have gone, do you?”

Leif shakes his head. “I'm sure she's not far. This would be the first time she's left the capital without an escort.”

I relax my shoulders and move away from Leif and Kyron. I'm happy to hear my siblings have kept my secret, but it’s only a matter of time before one of them breaks and Micah sends for me. I have to work harder, faster if I'm going to make all of this worthwhile.

“Don't go too far, princess,” Kyron calls out after me. “The entire camp is here for a show.”

His words jolt through me, stiffening my spine. Everything is riding on this sparring match. If I don't win, I might as well take Nortus and return home. I can't stand the idea of facing my siblings and telling them I failed.

I hold my gaze forward, afraid if I look at Kyron, I will weaken my resolve. “I'll meet you in the ring, General LeFur.”