Page 6 of Crown of Iron
Micah moves behind his desk and sits in the high-back leather chair. “Leif, you will ride out just before dawn and return to Basecamp. The Stigians will be powerful after a day of siphoning, and our forces will need your expertise to ensure our strategies are strong when the Sibyl's wards vanish.”
Leif bows. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
It must feel nice to play a part in the safety of our kingdom, to have a true purpose. While I'm parading around in dresses and a jeweled crown, Leif is lending his talents to a bigger cause. I'm useless and playing the part of a princess does nothing to help my father or our ongoing war with Stigian.
“I wish to join my father's men and fight,” I say, voicing the thought that comes to mind.
Every head in the room whips in my direction.
“You will not fight, Raelle,” Micah says.
“But every ruler has seen battle before taking the throne. Why am I any different?”
“Yes, my sweet daughter, but they all came into the gifts bestowed upon them,” my mother says.
“Father's powers lie dormant,” I counter.
Micah shakes his head. “But your father was not crowned the next ruler. Our future is with you.”
“But I've been trained with a sword and?—”
“You will not fight!” Micah pounds his fist on his desk.
I jump, and a new fury ignites within me. The countless hours I spent under Borin's direction sword fighting, learning our history, and how to negotiate with our rivals weren't just for show. I'm made to rule. My family and king taught me to stand side by side with those I’ll one day serve. No one ever deemed a task beneath me. Far from it. I was raised on the notion that a great ruler leads by example. So why is it that I can't draw my sword and defend our kingdom? Why is my freedom bought with the blood of our people and taken away with the crown?
With my hands balled at my sides, I bow. “As you wish, Your Majesty,” I say and breeze past Leif.
My submission is a lie. It’s a means to a greater purpose. Papa spoke of how much he cared for his soldiers, how he would do anything for them. And although I’ve never been permitted to meet the people he leads or visit Basecamp, I have to believe they feel that same admiration and loyalty toward him. They need to know that Papa is being held against his will. Maybe then I can rally them to join me in bringing the king's general home. It’s a flimsy plan at best, but I won't stand idle and wait for the delivery of my father's body in a coffin.
I’ll let the consequences fall as they may, because tonight, I set off to fight for Lucent and my father.
Three
Hours tick by as I listen for everyone in my house to settle and morning to creep closer. I lie in bed staring at the wooden beams that cross the ceiling. My sisters’ conversation with my mother is filled with tears and an onslaught of questions about our father. Through the wall I share with my brother’s room, I hear his boots tapping on the floor as he paces. My family is just as shocked and heartbroken as I am.
It's one thing for my father to disappear without a word. We could make up our own stories, soothe our worries with optimistic possibilities. But to see him and watch him walk away, the choice seems so clear. Or is it? I know what I saw him sign, and I also know that the reason he is with Esmeray is because Micah has something she wants. I can’t remain silent when my father doesn’t truly want to be in Stigian.
Once everything in the house goes silent and dawn is a couple of hours away, I ease out of bed and pull on leather breeches, tucking my tunic inside the waist. There is no need for makeup to mask the freckles that pepper my cheeks and the bridge of my nose. With steady hands, I slick my brown hair back and secure it at my nape in a ponytail that runs halfway down my back. Lastly, I slip into a sensible set of riding boots and grab my packed satchel before tiptoeing into the hallway.
A single lantern burns on a decorative table, lighting the way formy little sister if she wakes up in the middle of the night. When I reach the end of the corridor, I take a deep breath. I haven’t entered my father’s study since he went missing. This was the one area of the house that was just his space. I never had a reason to enter unless he was here. That is until tonight.
The door creaks when I ease it open. Seconds pass as I remain still and wait to see if anyone heard it. When no one comes, I step inside. It’s exactly the way it was the last time I was here. Bookshelves line the walls, and two chairs sit in the middle of the room. I walk around the cherry wood desk and remove my crown and an envelope addressed to my mother from my satchel. I set them on the tidy surface of the desk. It would be easier just to slip out of the house without a trace, but it would also leave my mother to wonder if I left my family and my duty to run away to Stigian. After everything she’s gone through, I can't do that to her, but I can tell a lie that sends her down the wrong path looking for me. I hope it’s enough to buy me some time to do what needs to be done.
My fingers glide along the arm of my father's high-back chair and I ease into it. Over the years, the black leather has molded to his stocky frame. I lean into the indentations and close my eyes, imagining being a little girl and sitting on his lap while he worked. He would let me “help him” stamp the wax seals on his correspondence to the king or one of the many military camps scattered throughout Lucent. The job was simple, but I felt like I was doing something great when I was with him. That’s the way he made all his children feel.
It couldn't have been easy to juggle four kids and his duties to the king, but he did. In the middle of the day, he would join us outside. We learned to wield weapons, how to make the most of nature, and at night, he would tell us the most?spectacular stories. He never turned me or my siblings away when he was home, saying he served the crown but belonged to his family.
My chest tightens at the thought. He doesn't just belong to us; he belongs?with?us.
I carefully open the bottom drawer of the desk and reach to the very back until I find a small compartment with a key inside. I move to the cabinet across the room, my boots feeling like iron as they thump against the wooden floor. It takes my trembling hands several tries to slide the key into the lock, and I cringe as the door squeaks open. Lined inside are different weapons—axes, bows and arrows, spears, and swords. I remove ablack sheath engraved with daisies, fasten it to my waist, and search for a particular sword. The pommel is a silver flower and the blade narrow and light. My father had the weapon crafted just for me after I showed aptitude for wielding a sword. I take the beloved gift and secure it to my side.
After relocking the cabinet and placing the key into its hiding spot, I take the atlas from its place on the shelf. My studies have included extensive lessons about our land and that of our enemy, but I’ve never traveled outside of Lucent’s walls by myself. I open the book to the detailed map of our kingdom and run my finger along the road that leads north of the city. After noting the turnoff to the east that will take me to Basecamp, I return everything to how it was.
With a deep breath, I step back into the middle of the office and soak it in one last time. It’s a perfect representation of my father. The old map of one kingdom before it split in two, the medals representing the battles he fought in, and the gorgeous painting of my mother hanging over the hearth, each item is so him. It makes me long to smell wood burning as it warms the room, and I miss how the scent of the cinnamon sweets he kept on his desk lingered on his clothes. Our home is a shell of what it once was without him in it.
Brushing the backs of my hands over my eyes, I slip through the door.
“And just where do you think you're going?”
