Page 56 of Crown of Iron (The Crown Trilogy #1)

My legs tremble and my fear bubbles up inside me, making it difficult to catch my breath.

Not only did the initial plan fail, but so has my wildcard.

I didn't want to give her the Eporri and place my people at a disadvantage, but I've run out of options.

The stone in my leg is all I have of any worth. She must take it.

“No, please,” I say, drawing Greer's dagger from my boot and falling to my knees.

“Take the Eporri and give me my father.” I claw at the scale-like metal protecting my legs, looking for a way to wedge my blade between and slice open my outer thigh.

I will saw off my entire leg before I leave without the man I came to rescue.

Tears stream down my face and pure chaos bombards my senses. It’s a cacophony of rattling chains, bellowing voices, and uncontrollable sobs. I have to make the trade, I must.

“Silence!” Esmeray's command vibrates through my body and the clamoring stops.

I lower the knife and stare up at her.

The beautiful sharp lines of her face soften, and her eyes radiate what I can only describe as pity. With a tender tone, she says, “Don't you understand, na?ve girl, you already brought me what I want.”

“Me. You want me?” I whisper.

“No.” She laughs and steps closer to the edge of the dais. “The next heir to the Stigian crown.”

Confusion washes over me, and I whip my head back and forth, looking for anything to make sense of her words. How did I bring the heir here? I don't even know who she chose to one day take her place .

A dark form steps out from an archway at the side of the sanctuary.

My jaw goes slack, the dagger slips from my grip, and his name breathlessly leaves my lips. “Kyron?”

Without a glance spared in my direction, he moves past me.

The soles of his boots tap against the floor, matching the beat of my racing heart.

He scales the dais' steps and stands next to Esmeray.

He looks as if he belongs at her side, wearing black tailored trousers and a matching jacket with golden embellishments.

Esmeray takes his hand and beams at him with pride.

He reverently bows his head, and when he lifts it, his black eyes meet mine.

“I’d like you to meet the future Stigian king,” Esmeray says.

“Why?” I ask Kyron, scrambling to my feet. My face burns and tears blur my vision.

He remains silent and looks past me.

A twister of fury rages inside me, and I charge toward him. Two warriors snatch my flailing arms, pulling me back, and I thrash against them, screaming, “Why would you betray me?”

After everything he told me—the withdrawals, the nightmares, the distaste for the acts performed in this kingdom. Why would he return here? The rule of Stigian is at its very core everything he hates.

“Release her,” he coldly says.

As soon as his guards let me go, I bound up the stairs and shove him. He loses his footing and takes a step back, but grabs both of my wrists, holding us face to face.

Through gritted teeth, he hisses, “I would have never betrayed you if your king hadn't betrayed me first.”

“No, he protected you,” I counter.

“Did he? Or did he wipe away every memory and brainwash me to ensure my mother couldn't pass her crown to me? He kept me from my birthright to strengthen his claim to Stigian.”

“Your mother?” I whisper in disbelief.

“Yes, my mother.”

The accusation is outrageous. Micah doesn't care about ruling Stigian as much as he cares about the freedom of its people.

If he were to take measures to block Kyron's memories and keep him from his mother, he had a noble purpose.

Not that long ago, Kyron saw the benefit of not recalling his life here.

He said it molded him into the man he is… was .

I look over at Papa, but he remains silent, glaring at the ground. “Micah wouldn't?—”

“Oh, but my brother would,” Esmeray says from behind me.

I yank my arms away from Kyron and turn on his mother. “You would say anything to get what you want. Just look what you do to the Cyffreds who flock to your kingdom. They believe it’s better than the freedom offered to them in Lucent, but nothing good comes from this place.”

She shakes her head, and the pity in her black eyes is unmistakable.

“I spent hours unbinding the memories Micah suppressed in my son. Of course, the Cognus he chose to do it was not as powerful as me, but it was still a chore. Thankfully, Kyron remembers everything now, and he knows where he belongs.”

I fight the urge to spit in her face. Kyron doesn't belong here. Who’s to say she didn't plant those memories in his head, forcing him to believe she’s his mother.

And even if she gave birth to him, his family is a rough and devoted band of misfits.

He’s the Lucent army's general, not a prince, not our kingdom's enemy.

I turn to Kyron and close the distance between us. My hands tremble as I lift them to his cheeks and force him to look at me. “You don't want this. I know you don't. You don't want to siphon others' gifts.”

“You don't know what I want, Raelle. How could you know me when I never knew myself?”

“I know you. I understand your soul and your compassion for the weak.” My voice quakes and tears roll down my cheeks.

“You don't.”

Esmeray chuckles, and I glare at her over my shoulder. She lowers herself next to my father and says, “I’m so looking forward to their union sooner rather than later. The family dinners with you and your beautiful wife will be delightful, old friend.”

Her mockery fuels my determination. I will not lose both Kyron and Papa to the Stigian queen. She has taken so much from me, and she can't have Kyron as well. I grab his hand and drag him behind me up the staircase to the waterfall.

“What are you doing, Raelle?” he growls.

I don't respond until we stand in front of the stream showering down from the statue's palms. “If this is what you want, then prove it to me. Siphon from me. ”

The muscle in his cheek ticks and his eyes bore into mine. “No.”

My heart skips a beat. I knew he wouldn't do it.

I have no clue what he is playing at, but this is not what he wants.

But fuck, he's making it near impossible to follow along with what he is doing. Is his mother forcing him into this? Do I need to continue to play along and fight for him? What am I supposed to do when he’s so believable right now?

I decide not to risk it. What if I'm reading him all wrong? My best course of action is to fight him from both angles and hope his intentions become clear.

“Then I'm not leaving without you,” I say.

He moves to sidestep me, but I block him and push him back into the water.

His riding boots slosh in the shallow pool swirling downward and his hair clings to his head while the water infused by the gift of the Posseda drenches him.

We stare at one another and the ache in my heart lessens with the hum of his gift.

It strokes my frayed nerves, reminding me everything will be all right.

“If you want me to leave you here, you're going to need to give me a reason to do it. Otherwise, we’ll find a way out of this together.”

Kyron steps out of the stream and curls his fingers around the back of my neck, pulling me to him.

He rests his forehead against mine, squeezes his eyes shut, and breathes deep.

I savor the feel of him and relax as he presses his wet lips to mine.

The center of my chest burns, and it feels like he’s drawing the air straight from my lungs.

But it is not my breath he is taking, it's my gift.

My eyes widen, and I grip the lapel of his jacket to keep on my feet.

His gift pulls away, dragging an energy from deep within me with it.

My heart wants to surrender to what it feels he so desperately needs, to let him take until nothing is left.

It’s my mind that bellows for me to stop him, to gouge chunks of flesh from his body until he is a bloody mess like my soul.

He releases his hold and hunches over, gasping for breath.

I slide to my knees at the edge of the fountain, gripping the ledge. He did it. He siphoned my gift. My heart aches, and my soul tears straight down the center. It would have been better if he stabbed me in the heart and twisted the knife.

He steps out of the water and walks past me. “Go home, princess.”

“Fuck you,” I spit, pulling myself to my feet. “Kyron!”

Like my screams and despair are unsubstantial. As if I don't even exist to him, Kyron descends from the stairs and disappears through the archway he entered from.

Esmeray tsks and I glare down at her. “I know the heartache of a love like yours,” she says.

“The pain of having your trust broken and your world split in two. It will never subside, and the void only grows deeper and darker the longer you are apart.” She clasps her hands in front of her and frowns.

“I feel for you, Raelle, and I'm grateful you have brought my son home to me. That is why I will make you an offer.”

“I don't want anything from you, Your Majesty .”

“Ah, but I think you do want this.” She places a key into the shackle around my father's neck, and with a click, the iron gives way and drops to the floor. He rubs the irritated skin circling his throat and inhales so much air his chest puffs out.

I sprint down the stairs and fling myself at him. He clings to me, and I bury my face against his chest. He smells and feels different, but his hold is as familiar as home. Kissing the top of my head, he tells me he loves me with a hoarse voice.

Esmeray lowers herself beside us and places a hand on each of our shoulders.

“So here are your options. I will let you both leave, but we play a game. I give you ten minutes to get as far as you can, and then I release my warriors. When they catch you, they are to bring me nothing but your heads, so I can return them to your king. Or…”

“Or?” I repeat, shrugging off her hand.

“You could always stay here with Kyron and rule Stigian as his queen one day. If you do, my warriors will safely return your father home.”

I stand and help Papa to his feet before facing her and saying, “I'd rather risk my head than live under your sadistic rule.”

“So be it. But even if you make it out of Stigian alive, you and I both know you will be back for Kyron. You will never be able to let him go. It doesn't work that way, does it, Abrum?”

Papa glowers at her as if he wishes he had the strength to wrap his hands around her neck and take her life. Instead, he grips my fingers and says, “Shut your mouth, Esmeray.”

“What is she talking about, Papa?” I ask, my voice breaking and chest tightening.

The queen claps her hands and chuckles. “Oh, this is rich. She truly doesn't know. I wonder if she would be so quick to throw herself into the arranged marriage with the Cyffred boy if she knew the Statera gifted her with another.”

“Gifted me with who?” But even as the question leaves my mouth, I know the answer.

“Kyron is your parah,” Esmeray says, her words a blow to the chest.

I gasp for my next breath and my knees buckle. My father steadies me with a weak arm as a flood of emotion threatens to drown me.

It has always been him from the moment I stepped into his office until last night under the stars. And even as he siphoned my gift, it was still him my soul sang for, still him my body yearned for. Until my dying breath and the final beat of my heart, it will always be Kyron.

Esmeray's dark eyes glint with victory. “Really, Abrum, you would allow my brother to deny the girl a parah bond for his unrealistic agenda?” She laughs. “And they say I'm the manipulative twin.”

“Enough!” my father roars.

Kyron brought out the best in me, showed me I am more than my crown. I found my strength at his side, but now I must lead on my own, even if it means sacrificing the most precious gift the Statera gives. A parah.

Swallowing past the painful lump in my throat, I say, “I've made my decision. I choose my kingdom and my family.”

Esmeray flicks her wrist in a dismissive gesture and says, “Then I suggest you run fast, princess. It would be a shame for Micah to lose his heir and Lucent their future queen.”