FOR HER, HE WILL SET EVERY KINGDOM ON FIRE.
Kyron LeFur never wanted to be king. He may have united a torn people and ended a bloody war, but none of that matters without his queen. She sacrificed her crown for him, and now he will stop at nothing t...
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The breeze blowing across the snow-capped mountains in the distance is relentless. It chills my cheeks and seeps through my gloves. Every time the sun peeks out from behind the rolling clouds I sigh, but my delight is always short-lived. My fingers tremble as I pull the hood of my cloak forward, searching for even the tiniest hint of warmth. It's a futile attempt and really the least of my worries.
Ever since we passed the border and entered Sibyl, everyone has been on high alert. The jokes Ulric cracked earlier in the morning have stopped. His blue eyes focus on the surrounding valley. The lack of trees and flat land make it easy to spot anything out of place. I suppose it's the reason I catch his gaze drifting to Ashavee so often. The moment we stepped out of Pliris, she shifted into a sleek, black-spotted jaguar. With light steps, she prowls the path ahead of us with her nose close to the ground. Terro and Greer trade off taking the lead and watching the back of our small caravan. They keep the pummels of their swords exposed, prepared to unsheathe them in a split second. Their vigilance is admirable, but it is nothing compared to Kyron's.
The intensity he emits can almost make up for the lack of sunshine. He appears relaxed, rolling a ball of flame through his ungloved fingers, but it is just a guise. His eyes are in continuous motion, searching the landscape for anything out of place, and the casual play of fire in his hands is a weapon. Even Samson's pace with Nortus is to keep him at my side. He also takes signals from Ashavee. Every time her ears perk up, he follows her line of sight, holding his breath until the lean muscles in her legs relax. I've never felt more protected.
While the others were disguising their trepidations with humor or keeping a watchful eye, I've remained lost in thoughts about the Cruel King's Stone. The story has fascinated me since I first learned about it. Why would people risk their lives for something they had no proof existed? Were they all as desperate as us? Or did they feel the same connection to the map that I do? I'd like to believe that they were driven by greed, and a stronger force is drawing me to the legend. It's an encouraging thought. If the Statera had a hand in making me feel that way, maybe there is hope that everything will work out.
But if it doesn't...
"You've been quiet."
My thoughts disperse, vanishing into nothingness, and I snap my head in Kyron's direction. "I've just been thinking... worrying."
"It's going to work out, Raelle. We're on the right path."
Kyron has never been the one to give into unproven possibilities. They are too unpredictable and out of his control. He sees everything as a big picture. This action leads to this consequence with this outcome. I'm surprised to hear him so optimistic.
"I hope you're right," I say with a half-hearted smile.
He tilts his chin up, drawing my attention to the sky-high bell tower and the cluster of buildings ahead. I'm very familiar with the Sybil capital. I spent months inside those walls training to kill my enemy, searching to break a bond, and praying that the Statera would numb my heartache. It's a ridiculous notion now, but I was consumed by anger and hurt. My time at the Sibyl temple was just one stop in my journey back to Kyron.
