Crown of Iron (Book 1 of the Crown Trilogy)

Forty-One

I toss another dress from my closet onto the floor, and with a huff, fall on top of the mountain of clothes I've already discarded. A dress isn't optimal for riding a horse and wearing pants feels so ordinary. I don't know why I'm putting so much effort into my clothing when Kyron has literally seen me covered in pig shit. But I am.

My gaze runs over the remaining items hanging and lingers on a steely gray ensemble. I stand and push the surrounding clothes to the side. The sheer ankle-length lace isn't a skirt like I first thought. It's connected to the bottom of a gorgeous, cropped jacket with a deep V neckline and delicate buttons down to the waist. Folded over the hanger is a slim satin pant, with the same lace embellishments up the side of the legs. It's perfect!

With my hair and makeup done in a sad attempt to mimic my sister's impeccable styling, I head for the stables. As I walk across the palace grounds, a gentle breeze catches the lacy bottom of my jacket, billowing it behind me in swirls which remind me of Kyron's shadows. I smile at the thought as I stare at the sky. The sun is taking its last peek of the five kingdoms before settling below the horizon, proving I'm early. If I'd waited in my room any longer, my anxiety would have only heightened until I reconsidered leaving the palace with Kyron.

Questioning what we were about to do was the last thing I wanted. Our attraction to each other is already getting the best of us. Family and friends notice our stolen glances and the uncontrollable smiles we exchange. I'll be recognized out and about and gossip is sure to follow. I'm betrothed to one of the most popular men in town and there is no way my dark-haired companion will be mistaken for Leif. Kyron and I could become the subject of a scandal, and the unleashed daydreamer inside of me doesn't give a damn.

I enter the stables and stroll down the aisle, looking for a very specific horse.

"Your Grace, may I help you with something?" A teenage boy with chestnut curls and dark brown eyes asks. He follows closely behind me, and as I reach the stall I'm looking for, he jumps in front of the gate. With a terrified look, he says, "Not this horse, Your Grace. Bite your head right off, he will. He is the spawn of demons."

I laugh, brushing the young man aside and enter the stall. "Are you being difficult again, Sammy?" Samson nuzzles his nose into my neck and snorts with joy. "Oh, I see; they are neglecting you. No one understands how delicate your feelings are, do they?" I glance back at the gawking stable boy and ask him to fetch Samson's saddle.

As I ready Kyron's horse for our trip, I'm reminded of the nights I spent with him and Nortus at Basecamp. I considered bringing my father's horse to the palace, but thought better of it. Nortus was happy to return to the fields behind our family's stable. He had served me well for the month I was away and deserved peace and wide-open spaces.

I guide Samson out of his stall and into the early evening, where I climb onto his back. I direct him to the pastures, and he sets into a gallop. The way I bounce in his saddle brings a smile to my face, and I lose myself in his carefree movements. Cool wind whips my face, filling my lungs with the crisp scent of wheat and wildflowers. The ride begs me to surrender my anxiety for what the night and reveal in the moment. I don't want this one night with Kyron weighed down with worry. My mission to save my father and the duties of the crown can wait until tomorrow.

When the last of the day's light fades away, I steer Samson to the front of the stables just in time to spot Kyron walking toward us. His hands are in the pocket of his black leather jacket and an amused look takes residence on his handsome face.

"Stealing my horse again, I see." He pets the side of Samson's neck and looks up at me.

"Just borrowing him for the night. Shall we?" I remove my foot from the stirrup and Kyron climbs on behind me.