Page 45 of Crown of Iron
I scoff and shake my head at the ceiling. The ill-fitting uniform, sleeping in the stables, and working with the animals. It all makes sense. “You were told to make me miserable so I would go home.”
He shrugs. “None of that matters now. You surprised me with your determination, not to mention you made my most trusted advisers befriend you and defy my orders. They were not to let your training go as far as they did.”
Every hurdle I faced, Kyron placed in my way. The days I wanted to give up were not because this life was too difficult for me. A team was working against me, waiting for me to fail. They would have won if my reasons for being here weren't stronger than their desire to send me home.
“Was Leif in on it too?” I ask.
“Your betrothed was ordered to play along. The command came directly from the king, not me.”
Leif may push the limits on a lot of things, but if Micah is involved, he won't put up a fight. It took several long days of Leif scrubbing the palace floors and plucking weeds in the garden for him to learn not to cross the king. After raw bloody hands and aching knees, he never defied him again.
I, on the other hand, have not only disobeyed Micah but made an ass of myself in the process. I drop my face in my palms to hide my burning cheeks. It was stupid of me to think I would get away with this. I can hear Borin telling Micah,Let the girl get it out of her system and learn her lesson.I was never running out of time. They were just waiting for me to fail, to return to them with my pride damaged and words of forgiveness on my lips.
“I've made such a fool of myself,” I say.
“You didn't make a fool of yourself, Raelle.”
I lift my head and find Kyron studying me, his eyes dark and hooded. If I hadn't drained him of his gift, I'd believe the task of breaking me has taken a toll on him too. For two weeks, he has concocted chores and training he thought would have me running back to the capital. I worked my ass off to prove my worth, and maybe I succeeded.
“If you mean that, then you will let me finish what I started. I wantto save my father. He wants to come home,” I say.
He puffs up his cheeks and releases a long breath while combing his fingers through his disheveled hair. “You shouldn't have been on the field last night. I'm already in jeopardy of losing my rank and being ordered to face the king for insubordination. But…”
“But?”
“I'm having a hell of a time telling someone no when they want Abrum back as badly as I do.”
“You don't believe he left of his own free will?” I ask.
“No, I don't. He doesn't act without purpose, and his loyalty to this kingdom is endless.”
With a smile, I lean forward and rest my chin in my palms. “You’re right. It is. And you admire my father.”
Kyron clears his throat and says, “Admiration fails to describe what I feel for Abrum. In my weakest moment, he fed me, assured me, and held me as I cried through the pain, begging him to return me to Stigian. As the withdrawals wreaked havoc on me, he never left my side. He is the only father figure I've ever known.”
I try to picture the two of them together. It isn’t hard. He did those same acts of kindness for my siblings and me. What I have a hard time picturing is Kyron being helpless and scared, even as a child. He carries himself as if he's invincible and born to lead. I have a feeling that not even the commands of the king could stop him.
“So, I can continue my training?” I ask.
“Are you going to climb the fucking wall? I'm tired of hearing everyone talk about your sad attempts.”
I roll my eyes and my lips quirk to the side. “Is there another option?”
He smooths the sheet over his lap, and says, “You train with me.”
“You?” I squeak.
“You need to learn to control your gift. The next time we fight together, I'd like to know that the probability of me dying at the hands of one of my soldiers is obsolete,” he says, a hint of playfulness in his tone.
“Again, I'm sorry about that.”
Even if he forgives me, I'm never going to live down the huge mistake I made. And I'm not just going to receive a hard time from him. The others who know what I did will mock me as well. I could let it get to me, be the reason I run home, but not even their teasing will stop me.
Kyron purses his lips and lifts a brow. “Everything that happened last night was worth it. We learned you're a Cantor.”
My jaw goes slack. It was once said the Statera only granted the gift to call upon someone else's power to the most worthy. Our people considered it one of the highest honors, but the Statera hasn't found anyone fit for the gift in almost a hundred years.
“Cantors are nothing more than a myth at this point. And I’m a Cyffred,” I say.
