Page 1 of Crown of Iron
One
An entire kingdom is waiting to witness the moment I’m gifted a crown I wasn’t born to wear.
I take a deep breath and keep my eyes trained straight ahead, studying the intricate carving of the sanctuary's wooden doors. My fingertips trace the elaborate silver vines hand-stitched into the cornflower fabric of my dress, and my mind races with images of everything that could go wrong today: tripping on my way down the aisle, or my people contesting that the king chose me—one of the powerless—as their next sovereign. But one fear stands out above them all. My stomach roils at the mere thought of it.
Today, my people have opened our city gates to our enemy.
My kingdom has no choice but to allow the queen of Stigian peaceful entry; her presence is required for today's ceremony.
A gust of wind billows up my back, and I snap my head around. Salone, my newly appointed assistant and younger sister, fans out the train of my dress. With a wide smile consuming her pale, freckled face, she stands and runs her thumbs lightly over my cheeks. She’s been fussing over my makeup for hours, ensuring it complements my sun-kissed complexion and brown eyes.
“You're all set, Your Grace,” she says, wrapping a golden-browntendril of my hair around her finger and letting it go.
“She isalmostready,” counters a deep, commanding voice.
Salone bends into a curtsy, and I follow suit with a grace some would consider magical in my snugly fitted dress. “Your Majesty,” I say.
The king holds out his arm, and I loop mine inside, meeting the familiar buzz of his power. It vibrates beneath my feet, sending a tremor up my spine. The gentle aftershocks are like a calming balm to my frazzled nerves.
“You look spectacular,” he says, pressing his lips to my cheek.
“As do you.” I brush my palm over the soft fabric of his jacket sleeve, admiring the beautiful details of the silver stitching shimmering against a background of maroon. The design of his royal uniform complements his burly frame and warm skin tone, but it's the pointed crown encrusted with rubies that demands my attention. He doesn't wear it often, but when he does, there’s no mistaking that Micah LeFur is the reigning king of the Lucent kingdom.
It's strange to know that within the next hour I too will wear a crown to proclaim my status among our people.
“I know this is not how you pictured this day, Raelle.”
I glance at Micah from the corner of my eye and say, “No, it's not.”
“He would be proud of you. Your match with Leif is a good one and the kingdom is excited to witness today’s official announcement of your engagement and your anointment as my future heir. You have handled the last year with a dignity comparable to his own.”
My stomach stirs and I fight to keep the tears at bay. I kept busy all day, pushing aside even the slightest thought of my father. This was a moment I imagined all my life. I pictured him giving his blessing and offering my hand to the person the king chose as my betrothed. He would whisper how proud he was of me before sitting next to my mother in the front row of the sanctuary. Hand in hand, my parents would watch as a crown was placed on my head for the first time. They would beam with pride. But my anointment will be a far cry from the wild daydreams of my childhood.
“When I was a little girl, I'd loop my arm with his just like this”—I squeeze the king's forearm—“and pretend it was this very moment. I don't know if I can do this without him.”
Micah turns on the heels of his shiny boots, and compassion radiates from his green eyes. “I understand it’s hard, but youcando this. I believe inyou and chose you because the Statera's gift runs strong within you.”
I tilt my head to the side and quirk my lips. “My power is dormant; I'm just a Cyffred.”
“The first Cyffred queen, the unifier. The Divine Sibyl foretold your reign just as they did mine and my sister's. You will reverse the damage caused by my line. Lucent and Stigian will one day be one again, restoring the kingdom of Pliris. Today, you will define yourself as our future. You will be a just ruler who leads with her heart and soul and not because she wields a divine power.”
Micah's words seep with conviction. It’s not the first time he has shared his belief about my purpose. As my father’s best friend and my godfather, he has always been a dominant presence in my life. And he has never failed to tell me just how special he thinks I am. Yet, I question the truth of his words today.
He has counseled me to be his heir since I was three years old, but I feel unprepared. He has ruled Lucent with such grace, authority, and substantial power, all attributes I've yet to master in my twenty years. One day, I may hold my head high like a queen and rule my people with certainty, but I will never tap into the power which the Statera placed into the core of every being within our kingdom. I will always be a powerless queen.
Every ruler before me has been a Khiros—one who can bend at least one element to their will. Fire, water, light, darkness, even mind-reading, a Khiros' ability to manipulate things outside of themselves has made our kings and queens a force to be reckoned with amongst the four other kingdoms.
The gifts of the Statera bestowed to our rulers have also been the cause of the ongoing war raging within our own divided kingdom. A war that my people will expect me to protect them from.
“I’ll be with you the entire time, Raelle,” Micah says, breaking my gloomy train of thought.
I bow my head and utter the only promise I can keep. “I will work hard to make you proud, my king.”
“He knows you will. After all, you had the best tutor in all of Lucent.”
Micah and I smile at the sound of the deep voice rumbling through the foyer and turn to face Borin. His full lips are set in a wide smile which balls his umber cheeks and showcases a row of straight, white teeth. His black jacket with silver embroidery that matches Micah's moves like a second skin on his tall frame as he strolls closer.
“That she did, my darling,” Micah says, raising onto his toes and placing a kiss on his husband's lips. The crown wrapped around Borin's bald head slides to the side, and they laugh while both holding it into place as they pull apart.
