Crown of Fire (Book 3 in the Crown Trilogy)

Two

Zek coveted a crown and title. He lied, stole, and killed to earn his place as the Allaji king. Nothing is sacred to him, and he assumes, that like him, I cherish those things too. But I don't. Family supplied me with adoration, friends showed me loyalty, the people of my kingdom made me strong, and my parah offered an unbreakable love. I never found my worth in precious metals and power. The things I treasure the most are far from his grasp and protected by the treaty he made with Esmeray. They're the reason I obey Zek's demands and endure his constant taunting.

I arrange the emerald silk wrapped around my upper torso, making sure that my breasts are secure inside. A big, jeweled broach in the back holds the delicate fabric in place, leaving the excess silk flowing down my spine. From the same material, I fashioned a long skirt that leaves the entirety of one leg exposed. My attire feels so minimal, yet it is more than what most wear in the Allaji court.

With my head held high, I open the door to my quarters and meet Holly's bright gaze. She looks me up and down with golden eyes, pausing on the tiara perched upon my head. Her eyebrow cocks and lips curl as she takes in the emeralds and dangling diamonds—my newest unwanted gift from the Allaji king. Her expression says it all. She wishes Zek showered her with presents. So do I.

Holly flips her hair over her pale shoulder, and her fluffy, russet fox tail sways behind her. "You look nice compared to what you wore yesterday."

I pull my mouth into a bright, fake smile and say, "Thank you. Your back-handed complaint almost has me believing you're not a bitch."

"One day, the king will grow tired of you, and when that day comes, I'm going to rip you to shreds."

"It won't change the fact that he doesn't want you."

She narrows her eyes and growls as I push past her.

The last thing I should do is provoke her into a fight. I won't win. She can transform into a massive fox, and I have no power. Not that I believe the Eporri will work for me anymore. I'm no longer the queen or the heir to the crown. And even if I was, I could only call upon the gifts of my people—a people who are slaves in the Allaji fields and out of my reach. The stone in my leg is dead weight.

The manor hallways are mostly quiet as I stride toward the throne room, with Holly on my heels. Tapestries woven into landscapes line the walls and pedestals showcase marble statues of predatory animals. The staff have pulled the golden drapes back from the windows, allowing the late morning sun to light the way. Unlike the lavish décor of the palaces in Pliris, which were made by my people or trades with neighboring kingdoms, these items are stolen. It turns out that the Allaji not only find no problem with enslavement, but they also encourage ransacking merchant ships. I'm not surprised.

Every step my bare feet take on the wooden floor sounds like the rhythmic beat of a battle drum. It only makes sense that my mind believes I'm marching to war. Dealing with the new Allaji king every day feels like a battle. I fight to keep him from getting inside my head and breaking me down. Some days he gets the upper hand, beating me to the verge of tears. I've considered surrendering to him, falling to my knees and declaring him my king, but then the image of my true king flashes in my mind.

Even from the other side of the continent, Kyron offers me strength. The bond I share with my parah has diminished in the past weeks. I don't feel the excruciating ache I once did when we chose to go our separate ways. This time is different. The all-consuming pull that tethered us together is weak. I'm scared that it will snap at any second, but then I remember it is nothing compared to the love I have for Kyron. Parah or not, he is the one who holds my heart, and no force in the universe can change that.

Two burly guards stand watch outside the throne room doors. They don't so much as spare me a glance as Holly and I move closer. I tilt my chin up and stare past them to the likenesses of vicious shifters carved into the door. The Allaji people take special pride in their history, etching it into their buildings, tattooing it on their skin, and teaching it to their children. The acts of this kingdom make them morally bankrupt, but they have no shortage of pride.