Page 9 of Crown of Iron (The Crown Trilogy #1)

Hope ignites within me, and I quickly take in the faces of the four figures seated at a round table.

It’s difficult to discern who is the head of this army.

Not one of them looks to be older than their mid-twenties.

A slender man watches me from over his shoulder.

His red beard is a stark contrast to his pale bald head, and his blue eyes are an unnerving mixture of kind and menacing.

I question if the man next to him is old enough to join the army.

Jaw length braids frame his russet baby face, and his smile demands I return the friendly gesture.

The only woman in the group glares at me beneath thick lashes.

She puckers her full lips and flexes her arms, which are easily the so thick I wouldn’t be able to wrap both hands around them.

A long chestnut ponytail sits high atop her head, with the hair on the sides buzzed to her scalp.

The last person at the table slowly closes the book in front of him, trapping a piece of paper inside.

He brushes a wayward strand of jet-black hair away from his sharp, deep-set eyes, and I suck in a breath when our gazes meet.

His irises are pitch black with gold rings surrounding his pupils.

A gasp leaves me and I stumble a step back.

I’ve only seen eyes like that up close once in my life. Granted, Esmeray’s were soulless, but the unnatural lack of color has the same haunting effect.

This man is a Stigian.

Leif grabs my upper arm and pulls me into the room.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and a dark, disturbing feeling washes over me.

I look away and focus on my father's desk again.

A Stigian here in my father's office, in the Lucent army.

It's unheard of. No one leaves Esmeray once they enter her kingdom.

And even if it was possible to leave our rival kingdom, my father would never trust a Stigian Khiros with his soldiers.

This man is the epitome of what our army fights against.

“You are all dismissed,” says a smooth, deep voice.

My head snaps up to see who spoke, but I'm too late. Everyone is on their feet heading for the door.

The man with a baby face moves past me first. “Good luck,” he says, with another broad smile.

The woman follows behind him and isn't shy about looking me up and down. “She's gonna need it,” she says, invoking a hearty chuckle from the bald man.

Leif brushes his shoulder against mine and whispers, “Relax, you got this.”

Relax? I've known my best friend to do some off-the-wall things but leaving me in a room with a Stigian has to be the wildest.

I fight the urge to grab his arm and keep him at my side. This is wrong. So wrong.

The Stigian watches me as he steps around my father's desk, running his slender fingers along the edges.

The muscles in his jaw flex, accentuating his high cheekbones and square chin.

He removes his black leather jacket and drapes it over the back of the chair.

His dark tunic clings to his muscular arms and forms a deep V under his neck, displaying the smooth fawn-colored skin of his chest.

“Sit,” he says, gesturing to the chair across the desk.

A haunting feeling washes over me, uncomfortably warm. This isn't right. My father would not leave his soldiers in the care of his enemy. But Leif wouldn't leave me with someone he didn't trust, and this man is the key to finding my father before it's too late.

Or maybe he’s the reason my father is gone.

“Shit,” I say to myself and step inside.

“Close the door behind you.”

I jump at the command and quickly push the heavy door shut.

It takes every ounce of self-control not to place my hand over the hilt of my sword.

I ball my hands into fists and allow my curiosity to pull me forward.

Until I saw Esmeray yesterday, I’d never been in the presence of a Khiros from Stigian.

She terrified me, but this man… If walking through the streets of Basecamp made me feel like a hunted lamb, this could be my slaughter.

Even as my feet drag, something urges me on like I'm hooked at the end of a rope and being tugged closer. I sink into the chair, clasp my fingers together, and keep him in my line of vision.

“Why do you want to join the army?” he asks, sitting across from me.

I rub my thumb along the underside of my betrothal ring.

“I—um… well…” I should have expected such a basic question.

I would have been better prepared if he pounced on me and tried to drain me of my dormant powers.

Instead, I'm fumbling with my words and appearing like anything but a capable soldier.

The acting general leans back in his chair and concentrates on rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

I'm losing his interest and my chance to save my father.

Leif's words from earlier echo in my mind.

Charm your way in. I muster my courage, recall all the lessons I received for stressful and delicate situations, and bend the odds in my favor.

“Revenge,” I say, blurting out the first thought that comes to mind.

The man across from me lifts his chilling gaze and cocks a brow.

I let out a breath and start again. “Someone close to me was taken. I want to bring them home. I'll stop at nothing, even taking out every single Sti—” I clasp my mouth shut.

“Stigian?” he says, slowly finishing for me.

Fuck! Why is it that my mouth seems to not be syncing up with my brain? Not wanting to offend him and blow my chance, I give a diplomatic response. “I'll do whatever it takes, sir—General…” I press my fingers to my temples and squeeze my eyes shut.

“General LeFur.”

His last name hits a nerve with me. It's familiar, as it is to everyone in Lucent. It’s Micah's last name—the name the king gives to children who lost their parents to Stigian.

It acts as a reminder that they still belong to a family and are never alone.

How did an orphaned Stigian end up in a Lucent military camp as its general?

Every second I sit here, my questions mount, and I move further away from finding any answers. I wasn't completely delusional about the complexities of the task before me, but General LeFur is an obstacle I never fathomed.

He opens a journal and studies a page, ignoring me completely.

I lean forward, ready to demand his attention, when a bout of lightheadedness washes over me.

I grip the arm of the chair and take a deep breath.

A power making its presence known is not unheard of.

Micah, Borin, my mother, and Salone's gifts all have distinct markers.

I could be blindfolded and easily tell who is in the room with me.

But this man's power is unlike anything I've encountered.

It's a sickening swirl of dark and heat.

The dueling sensations build in the base of my throat, but I push past the discomfort, my voice coming out raspy.

“General LeFur, I don't want to join just any regiment.

I want to be a part of my fa—yours. I know your soldiers are the best, and that's where I want to be.”

“They are the best and I expect nothing less from those who join their ranks. It will not be easy. In fact, few make it through the training.”

“I will. I'll do whatever it takes.”

“We’ll see. You'll start your training tomorrow. Be at the stables at dawn.” He flicks his wrist in dismissal, not bothering to look at me.

I should feel offended. No one but those closest to me has ever shown me such blatant disregard.

Everyone addresses me formally and stands in reverence as I exit a room.

They treat me like their future queen and not a common nuisance.

But the people here don't know who I am, and for the first time in my life, my status will not precede me.

“Thank you for this opportunity,” I say, getting to my feet and making my way to the door.

“By the way, you might want to ditch the fancy clothes; you don't want to get them dirty. We don't have maid service here, princess.”

I flinch and open my mouth to dispute the title but quickly shut it.

There is no way he knows who I am. He's just mocking me, much like the guard who called me a little lady.

No one will rush to hand me anything here.

For the first time in my life, I'm going to have to prove my worth before I earn respect.

And that's precisely what I intend to do.

I yank the door open and say, “Will do, sir.”