Page 5 of The Sol Crown (Fractured Lights #1)

The air whirls around me as I snap my leg out wide in a perfect arc, the edge of my boot slicing through the air with a sharp whistle. My heel connects with Colton’s temple—solid impact, cracking bone—and momentum carries me through the full rotation before I land lightly on both feet.

Colton crumples, and I only open my eyes again when I hear his body slam into the ground, knocked out cold. The dust that rises in his wake tickles my nose .

“For the love of the Gods,” Barnett grumbles as he and Sam return from the infirmary. Without further comment, they both climb into the ring to drag out Colton.

I hop out from behind the ropes, landing lightly on my feet, and make my way back over to a smiling Deacon to retrieve my weapons.

I don’t bother looking to Carter for any type of approval. I don’t expect it.

I bend to tighten the laces on one of my boots, and I can feel the eyes of my team burning into me. Nobody ever expects little Elina Banks to be so powerful, so decidedly deadly. It’s precisely the reason that I have been able to stay hidden as the Fox for so long.

Being underestimated is one of my sharpest blades.

“Right, clear off then,” Carter says. “You can all make your way to the Great Hall. Rankings will be posted after lunch. Deacon, lead them.”

“Yes, sir.”

Though Deacon is a mouthpiece most of the time, he has nothing but utmost respect towards members of staff, in particular high-ranking members of the army.

His mother, Dalia, is one of the head cooks for the castle, and his father, Hadrik, had been a general until he died when Deacon was only eight.

To honour his service, both Dalia and Deacon were permitted to live in the castle for the remainder of their lives. The castle kept its best cook, and I kept my best friend.

Trent approaches as I sheath my last blade.

“Elina, right?” He offers his hand. I take it, looking up at him through a few strands of my crimson hair dangling in front of my eyes.

“I’m Trent. Figured I’d introduce myself since we’re in the same team.” His grip is firm, but his touch doesn’t linger. I keep my gaze locked on his, even though I can see a certain friend of his approaching him out the corner of my eye.

“Nice to meet you.”

“You were amazing in the ring.” He offers me a friendly grin.

“Thanks.” I blush, not used to compliments. “You too.”

He opens his mouth, about to say more, when a thick, tanned arm lands across his shoulders, jostling him slightly.

“Hey, man. What’s the hold-up?” Stone asks, then looks over at me as if only just noticing that I’m standing there.

“Just introducing myself to Elina,” Trent says as he gestures towards me with a friendly smile.

Stone looks at me with complete and utter indifference.

Wow. There is nothing like apathy from the new object of your desires to dampen your fascination. My chest aches a little to see that not one ounce of my attraction to him is returned in his stare.

“Good fight, Red,” he says, nodding at me. I’m offended that he’s not bothered to remember my name.

I raise one eyebrow at him.

“Ah. Red because of my hair.” I gesture to my head. “Original.” I roll my eyes in his direction and turn towards where Deacon is directing people to the Great Hall.

“It was nice to meet you, Elina,” Trent says before jogging to catch up with the others. I move to follow, but Stone’s hand whips out and closes around my wrist, halting me in my tracks.

“I didn’t call you Red because of your hair,” he says, breath warm against my ear.

Then he’s gone, leaving my skin tingling in his wake.

* * *

I slam my tray of food down on the table and take a seat between Deacon and Sam, not bothering to greet either of them as I shovel chicken and pasta into my mouth.

When I’m anxious or unsettled, I eat, and carbs are my go-to.

Once I’ve devoured almost half the plate, my nerves begin to settle, and I finally allow myself to taste the food. It’s creamy and rich, absolutely delicious.

Silently, Deacon slides a plate of garlic bread toward me that I must’ve missed in my haste. I smile at him around my fork in thanks. He grins, dimples popping, and digs into his portion, knowing better than to talk to me mid-meal.

“Wow.” Another tray hits the table opposite Deacon as Junie pulls out a chair, the legs scraping across the floor. She drops into it and immediately begins eating. “Is the food always this good here?” she says around a mouthful, making me smile.

We’re going to get along well, Junie and I. I can already tell.

Trent joins the table next, sliding in beside Junie and across from me.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” I say to Junie, taking a bite of garlic bread. Its buttery, herby goodness fills my mouth, and I swallow before continuing. “Deacon’s mum, Dalia, runs the kitchen for the recruits. She’s the best cook in all of Aladria.”

I eye Trent as he lifts a huge forkful of meat pasta to his mouth.

It’s richer, less creamy than mine, full of stretchy, tangy cheese and sweet tomatoes.

He moans in pleasure at the taste. Panic spikes as I realise I missed yet another offering at the service station, craning my neck and lifting in my chair to see if there’s any left.

“Here, before you hurt yourself.” Deacon nudges a bowl of the steaming meat pasta my way.

“My hero.” I clutch my fork to my chest in thanks and drag the bowl closer.

“You’re going to eat all of that?” Trent asks, wide-eyed, clearly doubting my ability to put away the sheer amount of food on my tray .

This is nothing compared to what I eat after a night fighting the Malus.

Sam chuffs a laugh. “She’s just a barrel of contradictions—you’ll get used to it.”

“So you three know each other well then?” Junie asks, gesturing at us with her knife, a dab of butter on the end, ready for her slices of bread.

“Yeah, Elina may as well be my sister. We grew up together,” Deacon explains. “And Sam’s been here the past five years.”

“Oh, so you two have never…? You know…?” Trent wiggles his eyebrows at Deacon and me. I shiver in revulsion as Deacon dramatically gags.

“Gods, man. Do you want me to throw up what I just ate?” Deacon grimaces, his disgust evident.

“Hey!” I swing toward him, indignant. “I’m not that repulsive.”

Deacon laughs, with Trent and Junie joining him.

“You are my queen, Elina.” He places a hand on my shoulder, looking me dead in the eyes as if he’s about to reveal a great truth.

“However, there is nothing in this Gods-given kingdom that someone could offer me to make me find you sexually attractive.”

I nod, shrugging with a mix of acceptance and agreement, and get back to my mountain of food.

“What about you two?” Junie asks, glancing between Sam and me. “Do you go for the more stoic and silent type?” she adds with a crooked smile.

“No, thank you,” Sam answers flatly, shutting down the question.

I snort at his bluntness.

Sam’s been in a relationship with one of the castle gardeners, Louisa, for the past three years. She’s adorably shy. I often catch them speaking in hushed tones while she prunes the roses or walking hand-in-hand around the east wing fountain when they think no one’s looking. They’re sweet together.

Not that Sam would ever volunteer any of this. It took him three years just to share anything about his personal life with me.

“Where are you from?” I ask Junie to steer the conversation away from me and my current lack of relationship status.

“Saiyan. A little village called Kanashiki.”

So I was right.

“I couldn’t wait to join the Aladrian army. My father and older brother trained here and couldn’t stop praising the regime.” Her excitement is infectious.

“How about you?” I ask Trent.

“Sandram,” he says. The farming village sits about twelve hours northeast of here, on the border between Aladria and Dunmere.

“My family’s been clemoya farming for generations.

We’ve got our farm with around twenty acres.

” He grins happily, speaking of the dark purple fruit native to Aladria, popular for making a sweet, fizzy dessert wine.

It’s notoriously hard to cultivate, which also makes it expensive.

“Oh, so you’re rich- rich,” Deacon says, brows raised. I shut my eyes and shake my head. The boy has no filter.

Luckily, Trent just laughs. “My family does alright, yeah.”

If they own twenty acres of land dedicated to growing clemoya, they do more than all alright.

“What brings you here then?” I ask, biting into my garlic bread. “Surely your parents want you to continue running the farm?”

“I have two older brothers who have been gradually taking over from my father for the past two years,” he explains.

“The war’s pretty harsh near where I’m from.

Just last month, a Malus made it into a neighbour’s farm about fifty minutes from us.

Killed the farmer’s wife before the army arrived.

Tore her apart.” He pauses. “She was only forty. Left two little girls without a mama. All I could think was—what if that had been my family? When I heard Stone was enlisting, it felt like a sign. So… here I am.”

“So you and Stone know each other from Sandram?” Junie asks, and I pretend to be paying very close attention to finishing my last bit of pasta.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Trent replies.

“Where is your boy anyway?” Deacon asks, glancing around. “Never mind,” he adds with a laugh. “He’s busy charming the brunette from Steel Squad.”

Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t—

My head snaps in the direction Deacon is facing. Shit .

Stone is leaning in close to a girl two tables over as he says something into her ear that makes her giggle. It’s not loud enough in the hall that he needs to be that close for her to hear.

She’s gorgeous. Glossy shoulder-length brown hair, full red lips, high cheekbones, dark eyes, and curves in all the right places.

A pang hits my chest, and I quickly look away. If that’s his type, I don’t stand a chance.

Trent laughs at his friend, but Stone is oblivious to our attention, too engrossed in the girl.

“I wonder if the rankings from this morning are up,” I say, desperate to change the subject. If anything can cheer me up, it’s seeing my name at the top of the Elite Squad.

“Only one way to find out,” Deacon says, already standing. His chair screeches back.

We all follow him through the Great Hall’s wooden doors and into the corridor, gathering around the large chalkboard listing each squad’s rankings.

I skim through the names—Junie is eighth, Sam fifth, and some names I don’t recognise from other groups. Then I find mine.

First.

I begin to grin until I see there is another name to the right of it .

Stone Carlisle.

Movement close to my back makes me tense. A chest brushes my spine and shoulders, too close to be necessary, even for someone trying to see the board.

“Looks like you’re my competition then, Red,” Stone says with a chuckle, his breath ghosting my neck again as he leans down to ruffle my hair with his hand like I’m a fucking dog and then walks away.