I want to accompany Kyron to the stadium—I'm curious to know what he's up to—but Micah insists I ride with him and some other generals. They are deep in conversation as I stare out the window, recalling how collected Kyron presented himself during the meeting. He was the youngest leader there, yet he dominated the room. And the way he looked at me...I cross my legs and cover my lips with my hand as I suck them between my teeth. The man sparks something inside of me which is impossible to ignore.
The carriage stops in front of a tall red brick structure and the officers file out, followed by Micah. The king offers me his hand and loops our arms together. We stroll to the front gate of the stadium, falling behind the others. When we are alone in the passageway, Micah quietly says, "You and Kyron are interesting to watch together."
I keep my gaze ahead and ask, "Is that why you really called me into the meeting today? You wanted to see if what Borin told you was true?"
"My husband can be overbearing, but he cares about you, Raelle."
"I know." Even in my anger toward Borin, I never doubted his love for me. He's invested just as much time as my parents into guiding and nurturing me.
"It's understandable that the marriage between you and Leif will be unconventional." I open my mouth to protest, but he raises his hand. "I may have a few decades on you and Leif, but I still have my wits about me. You have known your entire life he would be your husband, and still you assisted him in his many conquests."
I watch our feet as we grow closer to the walkway leading up to the stands. "I love Leif, but there is no spark between us. We will never look at each other the way you look at Borin or feel so overwhelmed with need we excuse ourselves early from banquets." Micah raises a brow, and I sardonically say, "I notice things too."
Micah stops and places his hand on my shoulder, turning me to face him. He lowers his voice to almost a whisper. "Kyron can't be the one to warm your bed on lonely nights, Raelle. Your father and I have gone to great lengths to protect him, and although his soldiers accept him as one of their own, others will not so easily follow suit. The Stigian have deeply hurt our people, and it will take a lifetime for them to forgive and trust even one who did them no harm."
I shake my head, looking up at the rafters and fighting back my tears. If they only knew Kyron the way I do, how he runs into danger for them, bleeds for them, cars for them. They wouldn't be so quick to turn their backs. Whose lifetime will it take before they can forgive? Kyron's?
"Your feelings for him run deep," Micah says, lowering my chin.
"I—I'm not sure exactly what my feelings are for Kyron. They're intense and confusing. But I know he shouldn't be treated as an outcast and forced to hide the mistakes he unknowingly made as a child. Kyron should give us hope that our loved ones are not lost to the Stigian."
Micah cups my cheek and weakly smiles. "You will be that hope to our people. The lessons you learned from Kyron will play out during your rule."
"I hope you're right."
Guiding my hand to the crook of his elbow again, he says, "I'm the king. I'm all wise and knowing and the rest of that bullshit."
My eyes grow wide, and I laugh. It's a rare day when Micah lets his royal facade crack. He is always so poised in front of others. And when it comes to me, he takes his duty as my predecessor and role model of what a sovereign should be very serious. Then moments like this happen and I love getting to see the man beneath the crown.
"Shall we go see what your friend has come up with?"
"Knowing Kyron, it will be awe-inspiring."
"I'm sure it will."
We make our way to the royal booth, covered by a burgundy and blue awning with two high-backed, hand-carved chairs and several simpler seats. I sit next to Micah, and we turn our attention to Kyron. He moves away from the wall, where he talks to a group of generals and stands in the center of the field in front of us.
"As Princess Raelle so eloquently pointed out, our troops are the weakest due to the vulnerability of our Cyffred soldiers," Kyron says. "Our army contains almost three Cyffreds for every Khiros, therefore it is in our best interest to equip the Cyffreds to withstand attacks of fire, electricity, wind, and projectiles."
Kyron nods toward the underground opening on the other side of the stadium. Terro walks out with someone outfitted in a black one-piece suit with a matching helmet. "May I present Lieutenant-Commander Terro August, Basecamp's Master of Arms."
Terro steps forward and bows to Micah and me before saying, "At General LeFur's request, I've spent the past four years developing armor which can withstand the amplified powers of the Stigian warriors." He runs his hand over the scale-like plates on the soldier's chest. "The outer shell of this light-weight armor is constructed of a stone found in the southern region of the Allaji kingdom and infused with an artificial mineral comparable to diamonds. Together these materials can resist an Ingita's fire and are durable enough to hold against a Glacio's icicles or the splintering of a branch hurled by a Pianti. The lining on the inside is a breathable rubbery fabric which will absorb most of the shock from an Electro. The soldier will still receive a good zap, but it won't be fatal. And the helmet," Terro knocks on the tinted visor covering the wearer's face, "blocks against wind, dirt, and offers substantial protection from a Solsta's burst of light."
"Do we get a demonstration?" calls a man from the stands.
I lean forward in my seat as Terro moves behind Kyron. The armored soldier lines up with the general and squares their shoulders. Kyron brings his hands to his chest and then flings them forward. A massive ball of fire races for the test subject and hits them with a force that sends them to their ass. The blow would have been enough to burn a sizable hole through one side of the stadium, leaving everything ash and charred. The soldier is in one piece.
Propping themself on an elbow, the soldier moans, "You flaming bag of horseshit, you didn't need to throw it so hard."
I smile at the recognizable voice—Ulric.
"Come on, Major, it was just a little fire," Kyron quips and turns to Micah. "Would you like to give it a try, Your Majesty?"
The king gives a curt nod and joins the men on the field.
Ulric mutters a slew of curse words as he stands again and readies himself for what Micah will unleash. Much like Kyron did, Micah stands across from Ulric and blasts him with a powerful but trivial dirt storm. Small rocks and dust wash over Ulric. He stumbles back but remains on his feet, pushing through the debris toward the king until he taps him on the shoulder.
"The armor also comes with a weapon which turns every soldier wearing it into an Ignita," Terro says, pointing Ulric to a target dressed as a Stigian. "A flammable solution runs through thin tubing placed around the armor and is controlled by a switch within the sleeve. The outer shell and inside lining protect a small series of tubes, keeping the soldier safe. The gift, if you will, has limits, but we are working to create a mobile power station which will allow the wearer to refill the reservoir within minutes."
"If you will allow me to demonstrate, Your Majesty," Ulric says, with excitement. He extends his arm, curls his fingers, and a stream of fire stretches meters ahead of him, burning the decoy warrior to ash. Ulric turns to Micah and lifts the visor on his helmet. He is sweaty, out of breath, and no doubt sore, but he wears the widest grin.
Kyron claps Ulric on the shoulder and addresses the crowd. "The limitations of the armor are few. For instance, the strength of the soldier wearing it."
"Aye, you're such an ass," Ulric says.
"There are weak points," Terro says. "A skilled soldier can easily maneuver around them, and I'm still working to minimize them."
Micah asks the men, "How long will it take to outfit every Cyffred soldier?"
Terro answers, "At your command, we are ready to distribute the armor to every Cyffred and Khiros at Basecamp. I've put together a proposal on how to create and distribute the armor for the other camps."
Kyron adds, "This armor could not only benefit the Cyffreds but all of our soldiers. It's costly, but worth it, Your Majesty."
"Where did the finances—"
"I understand the financial restraints of the kingdom," Kyron says. "Basecamp's armor cost our people nothing."
Micah skeptically lifts a brow but doesn't push the matter. "Lieutenant-Commander August, I'd like to review your proposal tomorrow. General LeFur, prepare your troops for a test run of the armor—a small scale attack on Stigian soil."
My breath hitches and I sink back into my chair and close my eyes. Everything has fallen into place so easily. It's as if the moment I came clean with Kyron, the Statera smiled upon me. We have our reason to go beyond the Lucent border and a chance to find my father.
"Are we still on for the wife hunt this evening?"
I jerk, and my eyes spring open. Kyron looks up at me with his arms crossed over the railing and a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Pretending his presence doesn't release a kaleidoscope of butterflies within me, I glance past him to the field where Micah and several generals poke, prod, and test their gifts against Ulric's armor.
Leaning forward, I drop my voice and say, "I think I've got the perfect girl in mind."
"Do you now?"
With a shrug, I standand walk toward the stairs. Before I disappear into passage under the stands, Iturn back to him and say, "Meet me at the palace stables just after sunsetand you'll find out."