Page 36 of The Sol Crown (Fractured Lights #1)

I ’m in the gym the next day, grinding through strength training with Sam. The man’s a literal giant—he can lift three times my body weight without breaking a sweat—yet insists I spot him, like I’ll be any help if his hands slip on the bar he’s pressing overhead.

If that thing drops, he’s getting decapitated.

Still, I stand behind him dutifully, mostly for moral support.

The gym is warm, the air tinged with that familiar mix of sweat and iron. I’ve stripped down to a training vest and shorts, but even that’s not enough to stop the slow trickle of sweat sliding down my spine.

The door opens.

Stone and Trent stride in, both nodding at Sam. Trent offers me a small wave. Stone doesn’t even look at me.

They head toward the other side of the room, stretch briefly, and start dragging weighted sledges across the length of the hall, thick ropes wound across their torsos.

Sam swaps out the weights for my next set.

“Elina.”

He has to say my name twice to snap me out of it. I blink, catching the knowing smile on his face, but mercifully, he doesn’t comment.

Gods bless this man for his silence.

“I don’t know whether to be offended that you’ve never looked at me or Deacon like that before,” he adds, voice rich with amusement, “ or count my blessings.”

I take it back. Sam is dead to me.

I scowl and lie back on the bench, gripping the bar like it personally insulted me. I zero in on my breath, on the tension in my core, but I can still hear them.

Boots pounding the floor.

Harsh, rhythmic breathing.

Grunts of exertion drag at my focus.

My arms tremble on the final rep, my mind scattered, and Sam steps in to steady the bar.

“Ring,” he grunts, nodding toward the sparring pit at the far end of the gym.

Perfect. Smacking something big and heavy should help.

In the pit, I bounce on the balls of my feet, facing Sam with my guard high, narrowing my focus. The padded floor creaks softly beneath each twist and shift of my stance.

I don’t wait.

There’s too much energy coiled inside me, crackling under my skin. Ignoring Stone is doing more harm than good.

Gods, I need to get laid.

I lunge without warning, my body snapping forward like a released spring. Midair, I twist sharply, hooking my thighs around Sam’s thick neck in a flying takedown.

He grunts, hands locking around my legs—his grip nearly spans them—but I tighten my core and wrench him off balance.

He stumbles, tipping sideways. I release just before his full weight can crush me, flipping to land on my feet and rushing in with a flurry of fists and kicks.

Sam may be massive, but I’m faster. More precise. A sharp kick to his ribs makes him wince, and I know I’ve got him.

I spin, leap onto his back, and lock my arms around his neck in a chokehold.

He thrashes, trying to dislodge me, but I hold fast. Thirty seconds of struggle, and his knees hit the mat. He taps my thigh three times in surrender.

I let go and step back, watching him catch his breath, my own heart pounding like a war drum.

And just like that, reality creeps back in, along with a flicker of guilt.

Maybe I went a little hard on him.

Maybe it had something to do with Stone, watching from the corner like a damn prowling lion.

Silent. Calculating.

Looking for weakness.

I bite my lip, worrying it between my teeth.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, low enough that only Sam can hear.

“You’re fine, Elina,” he says between breaths, grinning up at me from his knees, his blonde hair flops into his eyes. “You’ve done worse.”

I huff a quiet laugh and offer him my hand, remembering all the times I’ve used him as a glorified training dummy and all the times he’s let me.

A slow clap echoes from the corner, drawing my attention to Trent’s amused, impressed expression. He’s watched me spar countless times over the past few months, but never like this—never with my control slipping.

If only he knew the reason for it was his best friend, currently scowling beside him.

I step out of the pit, wiping my sweaty palms on my shorts as I walk toward them.

“Trent, I could use a word with you later, if that’s okay?”

“What about?” Stone cuts in before Trent can even part his lips.

“I’m sorry. Is your name Trent?” I cock my hip and rest a hand on it, staring down at him on the bench. It’s rare to look down at him—it helps me feel bold. Reckless. “It’s none of your fucking business, Stone.”

“Do I need to remind you? Everything you do is my business,” he says smoothly.

“Sorry, you must have me confused with the brunette who had her legs wrapped around you the other day.” I turn to face him fully, both hands on my hips now, anger heating my skin.

Trent whistles, low and long.

“Careful, Red.” He stands, and I’m startled by how close we suddenly are, his chest brushing mine, but I hold my ground. “You’re starting to sound a little jealous.” His grin is pure provocation.

And my cheeks burn with fury.

“Right. Because every girl dreams of being number five in a rotation,” I snap, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

Shit. I’m letting my feelings show.

Stone’s jaw clenches, and he looks away.

“Damn,” Trent mutters, eyes ping-ponging between us. “Looks like I missed something.”

“Nope. Nothing at all,” I say briskly, stepping back from Stone. I turn to Trent again. “So—later? Library at eight?”

“Sure,” he replies, a little wary now. “I’ll look forward to it.”

Stone huffs in annoyance, and I take that as my cue to leave. I toss Trent a wave and head for the door, Sam silently falling into step beside me.

“That was all very entertaining, Elina,” he says as we step into the cooler air of the corridor.

“Fuck off, Sam,” I mutter over my shoulder, but there’s no heat behind it. “Create your own drama for once, would you?”

“And why would I do that,” he says, grinning, “when yours is more than enough for both of us?”

* * *

I arrive at the library that evening with a plan. I need Trent’s knowledge of clemoya farming to help forge an alliance with Imperia, but he can’t know who I really am or what’s truly at stake.

We sit at a table tucked away on the second floor, a sprawling map of the continent spread out between us. The low hum of candlelight flickers across the parchment, making Trent’s dark skin glow and dance.

He rests his chin on his steepled fingers, eyes scanning the map before settling on me.

“So, let me get this straight,” he says, incredulous. “Carter wants to send a task force to Imperia to win over their army, and he thinks the key to that is… fruit?”

His tone makes me smile.

“Not the fruit itself,” I say. “The income from it. The king’s been shifting focus to trade exports—he’s looking for steady revenue, something reliable. Clemoya happens to be his favourite and, of course, the most profitable.”

“And where do I come into all this?”

I hesitate for only a second. “I told Carter your family owns a clemoya farm. And now… he wants you on the team.”

His eyes light up, and I know I’ve got him. Everyone who joins the army dreams of secret missions, and this one could shape the future of Aladria.

“And who else is on the team?” he asks.

“Deacon and me. We’ve both lived at the castle our whole lives, and the council trusts us. I’m being coached on what to say to the king as their spokesperson,” I say, skimming over the full truth. “Sam, too. He’s one of the strongest recruits we’ve got.”

And my personal guard, sworn to never leave my side. But I leave that part out.

“Then there’ll be a few soldiers accompanying us, plus one council member,” I add.

Trent frowns, clearly turning something over in his mind. “Can I make one request?”

“Trent…” I warn, already knowing what’s coming.

“Elina, you know I’m right. Sam’s one of the best—Stone is the best. He’s an asset.”

His gaze holds mine, steady and serious.

“Fine,” I say, forcing the word out. “I’ll talk to Carter.”

By talk, I mean I’ll casually drop it into conversation, along with every reason why Stone Carlisle being anywhere near me on this mission is a terrible idea.

“Then I’m in,” he says, beaming as he looks back down at the map. “I can’t believe I actually get to visit Imperia.” There’s awe in his voice, wide-eyed and genuine.

“Don’t get too excited,” I warn, with a curl of my lips. “It’s meant to be colder than a witch’s tit there.”

Some of the excitement fades from his face, and I don’t bother hiding my amusement.

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, Junie leans over the table just as I bite into a buttery, flaky pastry, her face far too close to mine.

“I heard you’re recruiting for a task force.”

“Trent!” I whip around, mouth full. After a swallow, I glare. “Does the word secret mean nothing to you?”

He raises both hands in surrender. “I’m sorry! I only told Junie, I swear.”

“You talking about the trip to Imperia?” Stone asks casually as he slides into the seat beside me.

“Shit. Okay—Junie and Stone. But that’s it, I promise.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m starting to regret making you my first choice.”

Trent grins. “Wait. I was your first choice?”

I ignore him and turn back to Junie. “Look, I’m not the one assembling the team. It’s Carter.”

“Oh, don’t make me talk to that crabby old man,” Junie groans. “You know he terrifies me. Just put me on the team, Lina. You won’t regret it. Please, please.”

I roll my eyes at her clasped hands and overly dramatic pout.

“It’s not me who’ll regret it, it’ll be you when we’re stranded on a mountain before even reaching the kingdom.”

“Come on, you’d miss me if I weren’t there,” she says, dark eyes wide and pleading. “And besides, you need another girl with you. Men can’t be trusted.”

“Hey!” Deacon and Trent say in unison.

“Fine,” I sigh before they start arguing. “I’ll speak to Carter.”

“No need to speak with him about me,” Stone says, stuffing a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “I already saw him this morning.”

I whip my head toward him. “You what ?”

“My name’s on the roster,” he says through a chew. “I’m coming.”

I stare, mouth agape.