Crown of Fire (Book 3 in the Crown Trilogy)

One

A series of desperate acts obliterated life as I knew it. I was helpless to stop them. One selfish decision led to a tragic act of love, which spun into an unforgivable sin. The chain reaction was swift and explosive. In the matter of minutes, a queen was dead, another disgraced, and a broken kingdom was sloppily stitched together under one king. Prophecy foretold of a sovereign who would reunite Lucent and Stigian under one banner. A unifier of the people. A peacemaker. A beloved leader. What the kingdom of Pliris got was an unrefined ruffian wearing a gilded crown.

I shove my hands into the pockets of my finely tailored pants and stare across the sanctuary to the ostentatious statue of my mother. Beams of sunlight shine through the high arched windows, illuminating the sharp features of her slender face and half-naked body. The marble sculpture of the dead Stigian queen once depicted her as nothing short of a goddess. That was until I ordered it dismantled. Her arms have been removed, making her useless to hold the Posseda under the waterfall streaming in through the ceiling. The amplification ceremony has ended under my rule. Only those who suffer harsh withdrawals may partake in the ritual of siphoning the dormant power of Cyffreds, and only after the willing have been heavily compensated for their sacrifice. The new rule is one on the growing list of what makes me an unpopular king with many.

The end of the Stigians' most revered tradition has caused contention between me and those who lived under my mother's rule, but it's no longer the damning rift amongst my people. I am.

The day I inherited the crown was also the day the Allaji king took what is most precious to me. Zekel didn't so much as wait for my mother's dead body to turn cold before he fulfilled the treaty he forged with her. It felt as if I were suspended in time as I watched him shift into his hawk form, grip Raelle in his talons, and fly away. I let him take her and half of the Cyffreds living in Lucent. It didn't matter that they were the price to ensure peace between Pliris and Allaji. Zek is holding my soulmate, my heart, my parah captive, and I will stop at nothing to get her back, including thrusting Pliris into a bloody war.

A man checks the rope around the statue's neck while another examines the knot at its torso. The thick twine weaves through a pulley system, ready to ease the monstrous statue to the ground. The removal of my mother's likeness is another change I've made since becoming king. I couldn't stomach sitting in the throne underneath her shadow, knowing that the Khiros who served under her rule wish I died on sanctuary's steps instead of her. My gaze cuts to the two guards standing at the room's entrance. Their eyes never leave me, following my every move. They have sworn to protect me, but that doesn't mean they don't resent my decisions.

My ascension to king was nothing more than a mishap of fate. For most of my life, I believed my destiny was to serve my people as a soldier. I didn't know I was the nephew of the Lucent king or the son of the Stigian queen. No one raised me to rule a kingdom. I don't follow proper protocols or have the tact to sway the members of my court. Political games were never my strong suit. I have always thrived under the pressures of war. A sword and battle strategy are what I know best. I was not made to wear a crown, but my queen was. Raelle's weapon of choice is diplomacy. I've witnessed firsthand as she has rallied soldiers, earned the loyalty of her subjects, and eased her way into the most hardened of hearts. My own included. She is the promise of warm sunlight during my raging storm. Where I'm the swift swing of a sharp blade, she is a gentle, guiding hand. I am the king Pliris was given, and she is the queen it needs. And that is why I will not stop fighting to bring her home.