Page 23 of Crown of Iron (The Crown Trilogy #1)

The laid-back way the three of them banter reminds me of my siblings, and it makes me a little homesick.

They’re so carefree when they're not restricted by their duties, and I wonder how Kyron fits into their dynamic.

Is he the friend who remains quiet and shakes his head at their immaturity?

Or does he bring an endless supply of brooding sarcasm?

“Pathetic,” Greer sneers, but her eyes reflect the truth. She adores her friends. “Sit down and let me prove you wrong.”

She shuffles the deck and deals out the cards face down.

“Remember that time Ky played cards with the West Camp's commander and cheated him out of his horse?” Terro asks, taking his seat and watching Greer from the corner of his eye.

Ulric laughs. “And his officer's jacket. I'll never forget the next morning. He strutted right across the training field with it on, and Abrum lost it.”

I sit up straight at the mention of my father. It's the first time I've heard anyone speak of him since I arrived, and I want to absorb every word.

Greer kicks back her whiskey and says, “Abrum made him wear it for two weeks straight. He told him if he so much as caught him bathing without it on, he would have his hide.”

“And he wore it for those two weeks and then returned it to the commander without washing it,” Ulric adds.

“Oh, he smelled so bad.” Terro waves his hand in front of his nose. “I swear he did some nasty shit in that jacket just to pay Abrum back every time they were in close quarters together. But we all suffered from his stench.”

“Abrum rode his ass hard, but there was never any doubt that he loved Kyron,” Greer says, her rich voice losing some of its luster.

The knot squeezing my heart is on the verge of unbearable. I don't understand how the young Stigian leader came into power, but I know the most intelligent and selfless person I've ever met chose him. If he won the respect of my father, then I should trust he’s doing the right thing.

“He would be proud of Ky. He'd be proud of our entire band of misfits,” Terro says.

“That he would.” Ulric raises his glass and the rest of us follow suit. “To Abrum, may the Statera watch over him until we can drag his ass home.”

“To Abrum,” we repeat, clinking our glasses.

I welcome the sting of the spicy whiskey flowing down my throat, dulling the ache of my broken heart.

My father is loved and missed, and his rescue is still important to his soldiers.

The flame of hope that was reduced to an ember burns to life within me again.

I'm not alone in my fight. They will help me bring him home.

“It's your turn, Elle. Remember to watch for the twitch,” Terro says with a wink.

Greer tosses a cube of cheese and it bounces off the center of his head.

The room vibrates with our laughter along with a firm knock at the door.

I dig my fingernails into the side of my leg, bracing myself to encounter someone I'm not ready to face.

I don't want this night to end. It has been the best one I've spent at Basecamp.

If I come face to face with Kyron, all the joy I found with Greer, Terro, and Ulric will wilt like delicate petals under the scorching sun.

A long stream of breath flows between my lips when Ulric opens the door to a woman with blonde hair knotted at her nape. She steps inside and hands Greer a folded note and says, “It's recommended that first, second, and third regiments ride out in the next twenty minutes.”

Unfolding the paper, Greer nods in dismissal.

Her jade eyes skim over the words before she crumples it in her fist. “Scouts near Lake Holly spotted Stigian troops breaching the line just north of there. They’re heading for the region’s farming village.

” She slips on her jacket and removes her sword from a hook on the wall.

“The closest camp is on its way, but they’re small and have requested back up. ”

My mind races to Shianne and her children.

They are tucked into the woods away from the town's main square, but that doesn't mean they’re completely safe.

All it takes is one Stigian to veer off course and find their home.

I hate to think of the destruction a Stigian Khiros could do to them.

The children are too young, and their gifts still lay dormant, and Shianne showed no signs of having powers.

They would be defenseless against a warrior, as will so many in their town.

With her weapon strapped to her back, Greer says, “It's time to kill some power suckers.”

Terro and Ulric hurry to put on their jackets, and I jump to my feet. “I just need to grab my sword. I left it in my room while I was climbing the wall,” I say.

I don't make it two steps when strong fingers wrap around my arm. Greer shakes her head. “You're not coming, not until you finish your training.”

The urge to argue is strong, but I tuck my lips between my teeth and bite down. Slowly but surely, I'm figuring out the woman before me. All she asks is that I try my hardest and follow her orders. If I can do that, half my training is complete. I take a step back and lower my head. “Yes, ma'am.”

She barks out orders to the men, and I follow them out of her office. When we step into the brisk night, they head for the barracks to gather the regiments, and I remain behind feeling useless.

For the next hour, I weave through the streets, pretending I'm making my way to my barracks.

I don't want to return to my room, fearing it’ll feel more like a cage that keeps me from helping the others.

I inhale the chilled air, laced with remnants of smoke from the doused campfires.

So many people left to fight, and some won't return.

Lifting my chin to the stars, I silently ask for the safety and speedy return of my friends.

Each worry I carry places a small crack in my resolve.

As they compile, those cracks spread, crossing over one another until my soul is a spider web of fractures.

Three more people to care about. They’re more lives I want to protect.

Their friendship became priceless tonight, and the weight of it is almost too much.

Not all friends made here are meant to last a lifetime, some are cut too short.

It's a truth that sits heavy on my heart.

“Miss! Miss!” The clapping of boots on the ground rushes up from behind me. A young, filthy soldier fights to catch his breath and says, “I need to speak to General LeFur.”

“He's not here, and his second in command just left with forces to Lake Holly.”

He runs his hand over his closely shaven head. “The Stigians are crossing the border at Case Meadow.”

I try to picture the landscape from the maps we've used in strategy training. Case Meadow is too far east. Greer and the regiments won't make it to them. In fact, the road running from the meadow leads to the lake.

My eyes grow wide as the picture grows clearer in my head. “Shit! Come with me,” I say, not bothering to see if he follows me to the hub. Only one person I know can help us out of a dilemma like this.

I race down the hallway on the lower floor and find Leif's office door open. He stands at his desk with two uniformed men, studying a map with little figurines of soldiers placed on top. He looks me over and raises his brows .

I push my way inside, and the others voice their displeasure about how I've invaded their strategy meeting.

“I think it's a trap,” I say.

“What are you talking about?” asks a burly man with a long black beard. His lips curl under the coarse hair and his eyes radiate annoyance for my disruption.

“The Stigians are not just moving north from the lake. Another unit is coming through Case Meadow. They're going to rip through that village and ambush our soldiers.”

Leif looks at the area on the map and his brows furrow.

“Even if their numbers are less than ours, we're no match for a surprise attack against Stigian warriors. They’ll force us to fight or back us into the lake.

There's no way our people will make it out.” He rubs his jaw and studies the map.

“Unless we bypass the village and sneak up on their forces coming in from the meadow.” He moves one wood-carved cluster of soldiers in a wide circle around the meadow.

“Greer and the first three regiments can hold them back, and we will deploy another three regiments to the town to fight the Stigians coming from the north.”

Leif's plan is genius. Of course he would think of the defenseless and contrive a plan to keep them safe. He sees the entire picture, not just the battle but the people who could be affected by it.

The third officer, a thin, balding man with spectacles, shakes his head and grabs a leaf of parchment. He dips a pen in the ink jar on Leif's desk and vigorously writes.

“We need to send a runner to warn Greer,” says the burly officer.

All three men look at the soldier I brought with me and his shoulders slump. “I ran here from the meadow. I won't make it in time.”

“I will,” I say, jetting my hand in the air. “I've been to the area, and I have a horse. I can do it.”

“Elle,” Leif says, glaring a hole through me.

I square my shoulders and say to the other officers, “I want to do this.”

The burly man examines the soldier behind me before his skeptical gaze returns to me.

Options are limited and time isn't on our side.

Our forces will need all the soldiers possible to pull this off.

Someone like me, who hasn't completed her training, is expendable.

It can't be denied: I'm the best choice .

The older man nods and says, “Ride fast, soldier. Tonight, we show the Stigians they aren't the only clever bastards.”