Page 35 of Crown of Iron (The Crown Trilogy #1)

Twenty-One

T he moment I walk into the house, three bodies fling themselves at me.

“I'm so glad you're home.”

“Did you get to fight the Stigians?”

“Are you giving up on rescuing Papa?”

I hug each of my siblings, and with a laugh, say, “I'm glad to be home. Let's save my stories of run-ins with the Stigians for another time.” I bend and place my palms on Ansley's round cheeks. “And I will never give up on rescuing Papa.”

She glares up at Rowan and Salone. “I told you she didn't give up.”

A lump of emotion catches in my throat. My siblings believed I abandoned my quest. They trusted me to bring Papa home, and I failed them. It's a blow to my self-confidence to have my own blood doubt me. I just have to remind myself it's not over. I'm still fighting.

I swallow down the wave of regret and ruffle Ansley's red curls. With a smile that's too wide and my voice a pitch too high, I say, “I believe we all have a dinner party to attend tonight. Go get ready.”

I absorb the little details of being home, like the scent of warm bread and Ansley's hand-drawn pictures of our family sitting in frames on the fireplace mantle.

Mother's knitting needles and yarn rest on the rocking chair where she cradled each of us to sleep as babies.

Wildflowers, pinecones, and beautifully molded iron complement the rustic decor and create a welcoming atmosphere. I missed it all.

I trudge up the stairs, the old wood creaking under my weight, and Rowan wedges in beside me. “What do you mean you're not giving up?” he asks. “Do you have another plan to get Papa back?”

“There are things in the works,” I answer.

Salone matches my footsteps, her front pressed to my back as she whispers, “They won't let you go back, Raelle. I overheard Borin and Mama. They plan to move you into the palace in the next couple of days. You’ll be under lock and key.”

The revelation sends a jolt of sadness and excitement through me.

I despise the thought of moving out of my childhood home but living in the palace is perfect.

No one will think twice about me wandering around if this is where I'm supposed to be. Perhaps I’ll find the answers I need sooner than I thought.

I mask my emotion with indifference and say, “I know I'm not going back, and I expected them to move me there eventually.”

“Then how?—”

I hold my finger up to stop Rowan. “You are both going to have to trust me and back off with the questions.” My siblings nod as we reach the landing, and I turn my full attention to Salone. “I suppose since this dinner is for me, I’ll need to look presentable.”

A grin replaces her curiosity. She rubs her hands together and slips into my room.

I follow her, and Rowan scowls. “Come on, you could at least answer my question about the Stigians.”

“Live vicariously through someone else, little brother.”

“You get to have all the fun,” he mumbles as I close the door.

If he only understood the horrors I saw on the battlefield and the faces of dead Stigians who will haunt me for the rest of my life, then he wouldn't be so eager for me to recount the events.

Hours later, the driver of our carriage stops in front of the palace and a footman opens the door, helping my sisters and mother out.

I use the few seconds alone to steady my breathing and prepare to resume the duties I abandoned.

I'm not ready to leave behind what I found at Basecamp, but I need to push through the loss if our plan is to work.

Taking the footman's hand, I step onto the cobblestone path leading to the entrance of the palace.

Lanterns hang along the tall outer wall, flickering against the gray stone.

Every window in the five tall towers glows, signaling to the kingdom that all are welcome in the king's home.

We enter the grand foyer where a crystal chandelier hangs over the black and gold marble rendering of the Lucent insignia on the floor.

The same ebony stone covers the steps of the imperial staircase while the rest of the room is an immaculate white with subtle black accents.

We follow our guide to the west wing where the double doors to the dining room stand open, and the hum of chatter and soft sound of music played on strings flows through the air.

I pause and straighten the jeweled belt of my golden floor-length dress.

Salone checks my hair, making sure the messy twists and curls are exactly how she wants them, and my delicate gold and iron tiara is secure.

“Remember, you spent the past months on the coast, a carefree holiday before you take on the responsibilities as heir to the crown,” Salone says.

I nod and clasp my trembling hands in front of me. It’s not like I can forget the story my loved ones fabricated to explain

my absence at court.

The calming scent of lavender fills my nostrils as Salone rubs her hands up and down my bare arms. “Are you ready?”

“I suppose I have to be,” I reply.

A bright, wide smile consumes my sister's face, and a tinge of annoyance at her disregard for my uncertainty bubbles within me. I don’t have time to dwell on it.

“Hi, Leif,” she says, gazing over my shoulder and batting her eyelashes.

My best friend strolls to my side, dressed in dark gray trousers and a soft gray jacket with elegant golden embellishments along the lapel. His hazel eyes sparkle in a way I now know is only customary when he’s home, and his lips pull into a smirk, causing a dimple on one cheek.

“Good evening, Salone,” he says, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. “You look pretty.”

Her cheeks burn the same pink as her frilly dress and she bashfully replies, “Thank you, and you look handsome.”

I struggle not to roll my eyes at the way she fawns over him before she enters the dining room, leaving me with my escort .

“Nervous?” Leif asks.

“Someone could have warned me that half the kingdom would be here tonight.”

He loops my arm through his. “Where's the fun in that?”

“My misery brings you too much happiness.”

“You're not alone in your misery this time. For once, there’s somewhere else I'd rather be.”

He doesn't need to explain himself. I saw him saying goodbye to Wel, and it tore me in two. I’m happy that he’s found someone he cares for and upset because his duty to me pulled them apart.

Leif tilts my face toward his. “Come on, shoulders back, chin up, and smile. We must dazzle the court.”

“Of course,” I say with a fake smile.

The dining room falls into a low mumble as Leif and I enter.

I focus on the elaborate scarlet, tangerine, and plum flower arrangement in the center of the long walnut table, avoiding the ogling of the king's court. The different-sized candles staggered throughout the large room feel too bright, like they’re spotlighting all my imperfections and exposing my deceit.

I fight not to bow my head and shake the feeling that every extravagantly dressed person in this room thinks I'm unworthy of the status gifted to me.

A server walks by with a tray of wine, and I grab a glass and bring it to my lips.

Over the crystal rim, I catch sight of a familiar figure dressed in all black.

Kyron stands in the far corner of the room surrounded by a group of women.

I don't blame them. If I thought he looked handsome in his formal officer's uniform, he’s breathtaking in a tailored suit.

Unlike the rest of the men in the room, he decided against a high-collared shirt or ascot, leaving the top of his white shirt unbuttoned and covering it with a black vest under a matching jacket.

An unruly strand of ebony hair brushes against his long lashes, and his artificial light brown eyes lock with mine.

My fingers curl around Leif's arm, holding me upright as my stomach somersaults. Kyron tilts his head in a slight nod and his gift greets mine with a soft caress. No matter how many Khiros are around, his power always radiates stronger than anyone else's, and it makes me weak in the knees.

“Your Grace, I trust your time at the coast was relaxing. A well-deserved holiday before you delve into your new responsibilities.”

I yank my gaze away from Kyron and find the Secretary of Coin, a middle-aged man with graying temples and wire-rimmed glasses, standing before me.

Leif nudges me with his elbow, and I respond, “It was, thank you.”

“How was the weather there? This isn't my favorite time of year to?—”

The guards at the dining room doors stomp and clap their hands at their sides, taking a formal stance and alerting the room that the king is near.

I thank the Statera for the interruption as everyone hurries to stand behind their chairs.

When Micah and Borin enter arm in arm, every head bows until the king and his husband stand at the head of the table.

Micah takes a moment to look at each person, courtier and staff alike, and says, “Tonight, we celebrate the return of our future queen and the start of a new dawn for our kingdom. We have much to be grateful for, including those who selflessly serve our people.” Micah raises a goblet of wine. “To the bright future of Lucent.”

Everyone raises their glass in agreement, sips the red wine, and takes a seat.

The serving staff enters the room with wooden platters of my favorite foods.

Caught in the middle of Leif, Micah, and their constant military chatter, I focus on my plate, hoping to avoid any conversation about my “holiday.”

“Your Grace, have you met General LeFur?”

I glance across the table at a short, curvy woman with a round face covered in freckles.

She’s the Secretary of Coin's wife. She sits happily between her husband and Kyron.

Leaning closer to the general, she places her palm on his bicep, and I don't miss how her fingertips dig into the fabric of his jacket, feeling his defined muscle.

I fight back a smile at the way Kyron gives her hand a gentle squeeze and places it next to her plate.

“No ma'am, I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting our fine general,” I lie.

“Please call me Kyron, Your Grace. And the pleasure is mine.”

I push my gift across the table and nudge him gently in the chest. One side of his lips pulls up as he watches the wine swish in his glass. So many little secrets belong to only us.

“He's a looker, this one. He’ll make some young lady a

very fine husband one day,” the Secretary of Coin's wife says, fondling Kyron's arm again.

“Vera, stop groping the boy,” her husband hisses, and they fall into their own whispered exchange .

Being the best conversation I've had tonight, I continue with our ruse. “I'm surprised I've never seen you around the palace before. Is this your first time here, Kyron?”

“My time here is always limited. I report to the king and return to my soldiers. There’s a war to be won, you know.”

“But the harsh realities of war are best eased by the comforting arms of love.” I take a sip of my wine, watching as Kyron's expression lights up. He recognizes the words. They’re the ones my father ended every letter to my mother with and muttered the moment he stepped foot in our house and gathered his children in his arms. I knew it would be a lesson he taught Kyron as well.

“You should let me show you around the capital. Perhaps we can find you a fitting wife together,” I say, flashing him a toothy grin.

Kyron cocks a brow and drops one hand to his lap. No sooner do his shadows slink over the top of my foot, tickling the sensitive skin. “We'll see.”

I take control of his gift and direct it away from my foot.

Under my command, it slithers over his shiny dress shoes and up the leg of his trousers, wiggling against the back of his knee.

Kyron jerks and his eyes grow wide with a playfulness I've seen many times.

“I insist, General LeFur. It's the least I can do when you work so diligently to safeguard our kingdom.”

He smiles at the chicken on his plate and says, “As you wish, Your Grace.”

Satisfied with his public agreement, I lean back in my chair and meet the scrutinizing gaze of Borin.

His dark eyes dart to Kyron, who still grins at his food, and back to me.

I shift in my chair and stab a mushroom with my fork.

Popping it into my mouth, I smile at him, but the worry lines in his forehead only deepen and his mouth sags into a frown.

I have a feeling things are about to get very ugly.