Crown of Feathers (Book 2 of the Crown Trilogy)

Nine

I catch sight of Zek waiting for me at the end of the corridor, and I release the breath I've been holding to keep me together. He looks a little worse for wear after what I'm sure was a grueling conflict. Ash covers his face, and his uniform has holes burned into the scarlet sash over his chest. Yet he still dons his easy-going smile. It's a welcome sight after the emotional battle I've been through.

My guard falls in next to me and matches my stride. "I'm guessing you didn't enjoy your time with the Stigian prince."

"No, I didn't. I'm ready to go home."

"Did nobody tell you we are staying?"

I stop and spin to look at him with wide eyes. "What do you mean, we're staying? I did what was required of me and now it's time to leave."

Zek shrugs, and the soiled golden curls at his shoulder bounce with the movement. "They have sent two guards to scout the route between here and Lucent. General Mansi doesn't want to take any chances that the Allaji will attack on our way home. The Stigian could barely fight off the shifters and regain control, so our little caravan doesn't stand a chance."

Micah, my father, and a Stigian warrior move toward us, and I lower my voice to ask, "What's to say the Stigian weren't behind this and are setting up a trap?"

"It would be a frivolous attempt at this point. The king and queen signed a treaty and the Divine Sibyl bound it before they left. The two agreed to call a truce while they figure out what is going on with the Allaji and what actions they need to take next."

This is the last thing I want to hear, yet I can't argue against it. During the brief time I was part of the chaos, things got out of hand. Explosions, wild animals, and human sized birds—we couldn't have faced that alone and survived. Kyron was inches away from not making it out of the mess alive, and if it weren't for my father tackling me to the ground, I could have been hurt or worse.

"By the way, where were you when everything happened? Some guard you are," I say.

Zek smirks and looks past my shoulder. "Don't worry, even amid everything exploding around me, I had my eyes on you the entire time, Your Grace."

"Raelle," my father calls as the men draw near.

I roll my eyes at Zek before facing Micah and my father. His cape is dirty, and scratches and dings cover his breast plate and boots. He walks with a limp, which most wouldn't notice if they hadn't seen his confident stride before.

"Are you all right, Papa?" I ask, running my fingertips over the blood trickling from a gash in his cheek.

"I've endured worse," he says with a weak smile.

I don't need to dig too far into the statement. The worse he speaks of also happened on Stigian soil. I'm sure if he had the choice, he would pick a battle with the Allaji over the time he spent here with Esmeray.

A Stigian warrior with deep brown skin and eyes the color of the night sky clears his throat and says, "If you will follow me, I will show you to your quarters for the evening."

My father goes rigid against me, but quickly composes himself, nodding at the man who doesn't look much older than me.

As we follow the Stigian, Micah reiterates what Zek told me about staying. He doesn't appear bothered by the change of plans, but I don't miss the way my father's eyes dart around the dimly lit hallways. It doesn't matter that he spent hours meditating in this sanctuary when he was a young man; what was once his place of worship, he sees as the prison where he was held captive.

We reach what looks like a dead-end and the king and the young warrior simultaneously reach behind a tapestry on the wall.

Micah glares at the Stigian and says, "I understand it is hard to believe, but I used to love roaming these passages, and I was doing it long before you were born." He pulls a lever, and the wall gives way to a tunnel of slick gray cement outfitted with light fixtures of braided iron hanging from the highest point, lighting the way.