Page 92 of Crown of Iron
Esmeray shoves my father's head to the side and stands. She clasps her hands behind her back and walks the width of the dais. Several seconds pass as she watches the last of her court use the Posseda to drain the Cyffreds of their gift. Every passing second heightens my anxiety. Will she bargain with me, or will she chain me next to my father?
Like she has forgotten my presence, she says, “The Eporri does belong here. This is its rightful home. And the Statera knows I've missed playing with the power it holds, but what use is it to my people? I harbor the Sacred Gift which benefits us all.” She pivots in my direction and cocks abrow. “Although it is a fantastic trinket. Don't you think it's more beneficial to a Cyffred queen? It puts you on equal ground with me, Raelle.”
I release a long breath. “It is and I'm willing to hand it over if you promise before the Statera to release my father and let me go once you have it.”
The queen's harmonious laughter fills the sanctuary, sending a chill down my spine. “I don't think you are in a position to make bargains. You're powerless to harm me, and your mighty army with theirnew armorhas abandoned you.” She taps a slender finger to her red lips. “Now that I think about it, that may have been my fault. It turns out not all in your army are loyal to your king. Maybe you should hold on to the gift you took from my brother. It sounds like you're going to need it.”
My legs tremble and my fear bubbles up inside me, making it difficult to catch my breath. Not only did the initial plan fail, but so has my wildcard. I didn't want to give her the Eporri and place my people at a disadvantage, but I've run out of options. The stone in my leg is all I have of any worth. She must take it.
“No, please,” I say, drawing Greer's dagger from my boot and falling to my knees. “Take the Eporri and give me my father.” I claw at the scale-like metal protecting my legs, looking for a way to wedge my blade between and slice open my outer thigh. I will saw off my entire leg before I leave without the man I came to rescue.
Tears stream down my face and pure chaos bombards my senses. It’s a cacophony of rattling chains, bellowing voices, and uncontrollable sobs. I have to make the trade, I must.
“Silence!” Esmeray's command vibrates through my body and the clamoring stops.
I lower the knife and stare up at her.
The beautiful sharp lines of her face soften, and her eyes radiate what I can only describe as pity. With a tender tone, she says, “Don't you understand, naïve girl, you already brought me what I want.”
“Me. You want me?” I whisper.
“No.” She laughs and steps closer to the edge of the dais. “The next heir to the Stigian crown.”
Confusion washes over me, and I whip my head back and forth, looking for anything to make sense of her words. How did I bring the heir here? I don't even know who she chose to one day take her place.
A dark form steps out from an archway at the side of the sanctuary.
My jaw goes slack, the dagger slips from my grip, and his name breathlessly leaves my lips. “Kyron?”
Without a glance spared in my direction, he moves past me. The soles of his boots tap against the floor, matching the beat of my racing heart. He scales the dais' steps and stands next to Esmeray. He looks as if he belongs at her side, wearing black tailored trousers and a matching jacket with golden embellishments. Esmeray takes his hand and beams at him with pride. He reverently bows his head, and when he lifts it, his black eyes meet mine.
“I’d like you to meet the future Stigian king,” Esmeray says.
“Why?” I ask Kyron, scrambling to my feet. My face burns and tears blur my vision.
He remains silent and looks past me.
A twister of fury rages inside me, and I charge toward him. Two warriors snatch my flailing arms, pulling me back, and I thrash against them, screaming, “Why would you betray me?”
After everything he told me—the withdrawals, the nightmares, the distaste for the acts performed in this kingdom. Why would he return here? The rule of Stigian is at its very core everything he hates.
“Release her,” he coldly says.
As soon as his guards let me go, I bound up the stairs and shove him. He loses his footing and takes a step back, but grabs both of my wrists, holding us face to face.
Through gritted teeth, he hisses, “I would have never betrayed you if your king hadn't betrayed me first.”
“No, he protected you,” I counter.
“Did he? Or did he wipe away every memory and brainwash me to ensure my mother couldn't pass her crown to me? He kept me from my birthright to strengthen his claim to Stigian.”
“Your mother?” I whisper in disbelief.
“Yes, my mother.”
The accusation is outrageous. Micah doesn't care about ruling Stigian as much as he cares about the freedom of its people. If he were to take measures to block Kyron's memories and keep him from his mother, he had a noble purpose. Not that long ago, Kyron saw the benefit of not recalling his life here. He said it molded him into the man he is…was.
I look over at Papa, but he remains silent, glaring at the ground. “Micah wouldn't?—”
