Page 48 of Crown of Iron
Of course, not even my failures have gone unnoted. I wonder if they shared all my follies with my family. Perhaps they read the updates to Rowan and Sloane as they scrub the palace floors as punishment for hiding where I really went. The sly way Micah went about this shouldn't surprise me. He has a hand in all things happening in our kingdom. But this is my choice, my family, my life.
My ire takes hold, and I come to the quick conclusion that I'd like to play Micah's game.
“I'm asking you not to tell Micah about my gift,” I say, standing and pacing the room. “This is my information to give him, and I'll do it when I'm ready. Besides, it could help us save my father, and Kyron has offered to train me.”
Wel runs his hand down his face and says, “Is he out of his mind? He could end up in a cell for years if he withholds information from the king.”
“He's right, Elle,” Leif says, squeezing Wel's thigh.
Leif will always be protected by me and our betrothal, but Kyron…
The last thing I want to do is get Kyron in trouble. This is his home, his family, and if Micah takes him away because of me, I don't know how I'll live with myself. Micah is fair with the judgments he hands out, and he would extend his grace to the general. But the sentence for going against a direct order could devastate Kyron in ways I can't rectify.
I run my fingers over my lips and wrack my brain for the answer. “You and Kyron have only been asked to report on my physical well-being. And there's not an order to send me home, just one to make mewantto go home, correct?”
Leif squints, tilts his head to the side, and slowly says, “Yes.”
“So, if Kyron is given an order that doesn't defy the king by someone above him, he would have to follow it. Correct?”
“He would.”
My footsteps quicken. “I'm technically above the station of the general, am I not?”
“You are.” Leif smiles, knowing I'm going to bend the rules. We have always found ways around the expectations set for us both. And even if it got us in trouble, it was always fun while it lasted.
With my hands clenched behind my back, I stop walking and turn to face the bed. “So, I could order Wel to stop forcing me to climb the wall.”
“That you can, Your Grace,” Wel answers with a grin.
That was easy. I don’t see why protecting Kyron while I learn about my gift can’t be too. If I train hard and work to come up with a rescue plan, I could be on my way to saving my father in the coming weeks. My purpose for being here is finally within reach.
“So that's it, you're just going to order Kyron to keep quiet about your gift and train you, even though he has already offered?” Lief says, rolling his eyes.
I turn toward the door to hide my smile and shake my head. “Oh no, I wasn't talking about Kyron. Captain Stone, I'm going to need you to streak down to the pigpen and roll in the mud. Consider it retribution for deceiving your future queen.”
Bare feet hit the wooden floor behind me. “You're not serious, Elle!”
I don’t bother to look behind me; instead I wiggle my fingers over my shoulder and say, “I'll see you down there in five.”
Seventeen
Sweeping yellow and pink clouds adorn the blue sky as the sun breaks the horizon. A chilled mist lingers in the early morning air, clinging to my cheeks and awakening my groggy brain. I've abandoned my uniform jacket for a long-hooded coat to combat the cold and cover my wrinkled tunic and tousled hair. It's a beautiful start to what will be another mentally exhausting day.
Yesterday wasn’t any better. It was grueling coming clean with Kyron and learning about my gift. Although, witnessing Leif streaking past the soldiers was a small reprieve from the stress. That was until I returned to my room and had my first moments alone in almost two days.
The choices I made led to the inevitable, and I thought I could handle the consequences. I'd never been so wrong. I tossed and turned in my bed, images of the carnage I left behind with blade and fire consumed my every thought. I'd killed people. Whether they meant me harm didn't matter. They carried the gift of the Statera, and I snuffed it out. I thought my hatred would protect my soul. Except now I don't hateallStigians.
I round the chicken coops and pause when the stables come into view.
Kyron runs a hand down Samson's long neck, speaking to him in a gentle hum. The moisture in the air clings to the general's onyxhair, reflecting the golden morning light. He bends to check the stirrups on the horse's saddle, and I bite my lip at the way his leather pants form to his ass.
No, Idefinitelydon't hate all Stigians.
I divert my gaze when Kyron glances back at me, but not before I notice the strand of hair falling over his eye and the upturn of his lips.
“Are you ready to go?” he asks.
I adjust my hood, covering my burning cheeks. Part of me wishes I could run into the stable and die of embarrassment, but there is a pressing matter that surpasses my humiliation. I stand up straight and clasp my hands in front of me. “Yes, but there’s something I have to do before we leave.”
