Prince Kyron Niklaus LeFur
as the next Stigian king.
The ceremony will take place at
theStigian sanctuary
at dusk, on the day of the next full moon.
A spark of hope I hadn’t realized still existed inside me plummets to the pit of my stomach. A part of me wished for the Statera to give Kyron the strength to walk away and return to me. I wanted us to find our happiness together. Like a falling star colliding with the earth, that dream is dead.
I gnaw on the inside of my lip, placing the announcement on Micah’s desk. “We expected this. I don’t understand why you called me home because of it. The treaty with Esmeray states that you’ll bless who she chooses.”
“Wewill bless Kyron,” Micah states.
I lift my brows and lean forward. “No,wewon’t. You’re the sovereign and the one who needs to be there for the anointing. You and Esmeray pulled it off just fine for me.”
Micah pinches the bridge of his nose, and Borin rubs his back. “The Sacred Gifts of the Statera are needed for the ceremony, Raelle. We needyouto complete it.”
My jaw goes slack as I rub the Eporri in my outer thigh and whisper, “Fuck.”
Three
Unless I rip the Eporri from my leg, I have no choice. I’m going to Stigian. And as tempting as self-inflicting excruciating pain sounds in lieu of seeing Kyron again, I can’t part with the thing that makes me a formidable opponent against my enemy.
Kyron already holds the upper hand on me. He discarded my heart like a piece of garbage and left me broken in a way I didn’t know was possible. I question whether I’ll crumble under the weight of being in his presence again or lash out on holy ground, drawing blood and facing the wrath of the Statera? My emotions may be a mess, but I know how I want him to perceive me.
Powerful, confident, and completely over him.
I descend the imperial staircase, Zek following behind me, and we join the rest of the party that will escort us to Stigian. My father stands with Micah. He has traded his general’s jacket for the formal attire of the royal guard. A black iron breastplate adorned with the Lucent crest in gold protects his powerful frame and a crimson cape flows behind him. His shiny knee-high boots are shoulder-length apart and his hand rests over the pummel of his sword. He leans into the circle he’s created with the king and Borin as they engage in a whispered conversation. I’m sure they’re discussing the preparations that have gone into this overnight trip to our rival kingdom.
Palace staff bustles around the foyer, loading trunks of clothes and provisions in the carriage. Guards stand throughout the room, keeping a watchful eye on the comings and goings. The air is thick with tension and low exchanges as people go about their business. No one is eager for their ruler and his heir to travel into a land where we have no control.
I move in next to Leif, and he runs his gaze over my black form-fitting dress. He pauses his examination over the peek-a-boo sheer cutouts that reveal parts of my legs, stomach, and back. He drops his voice and asks, “Planning on making a statement, are we?”
“If you can’t beat them, remind them of what they’ll never have again.”
He throws an arm around my shoulders. “I’ve taught you well.”
“I like to think I’ve improved on your methods,” I say, puckering my lips to hide my smile.
“You wish.”
Micah claps his hands, and everyone freezes, giving their attention to the king in his formal black suit. “Before we leave, there are a couple of matters to discuss. The king regent will act on my behalf while I am gone. Any urgent matters which cannot wait for my return will be presented to him.”
“I wish you fun with that. Borin is a grouch when Micah is away.” I whisper to Leif.
“Don’t remind me. I remember how miserable those days used to be for you.”
Micah gestures for a staffer holding a wooden box to come forward and unlatches the lid. “I think it is important that the Stigian people see that the next ruler of Lucent is as revered as their prince. Raelle, please step forward.”
I work my way through the small crowd to the front of the room. Micah opens the box to reveal an iron crown with tall spirals encrusted with rubies. He removes the symbol of my status and rests it upon my head. A woman holds up a gilded mirror, and I lift my chin, balancing the metal and jewels that sit like a halo.
“Remember, you bow to no Stigian, Raelle,” Micah says, meeting my gaze in the mirror.
“I won’t be the one falling to my knees, Your Majesty.”
He kisses my cheek. “As it should be, my precious girl.”
