Crown of Feathers (The Crown Trilogy #2)

Chapter 1

One

When the man the Statera meant to be my match betrayed me, I knew what I had to do: destroy him.

My sword clashes with my opponent’s. The clanking bounces off the tall, white pillars and empty viewing boxes throughout the temple’s training arena. My hold on the grip tightens, and I grit my teeth, pushing past my burning muscles to get the upper hand.

The petite Sibyl grins over the crossed steel of our blades and cocks an eyebrow. “Are we simply playing with swords, or are you going to put your gifts to the test?”

One side of my lips pulls into a sly smile, and I shove away from the Sibyl.

I brush my hand over my tight black leather pants, feeling the hard scar on my outer thigh.

The Eporri. As word has spread about the Sacred Stone hidden beneath my skin, Sibyl warriors who were born in my kingdom and possess the active elemental powers of my people have lined up to challenge me.

They are eager to witness one of the most powerful of the Statera’s gifts firsthand.

Each of them believes they will be the first to best me on the training field.

It turns out that their choice to become a Sibyl and their abilities as a Khiros make them especially cocky.

Using the Eporri, I call forth the Sibyl’s power. The smell of dirt and the sensation of a million grains of sand scrape over my skin. My eyes light up as I identify them as a Jorden. Their gift to control earth is the easiest for me to manipulate.

The Sibyl raises their hand to control their element, but I summon it to me.

A layer of dirt rises from the arena floor like a wave and gusts forward.

They block their eyes with their arm, and I charge toward them.

Their youthful androgynous features morph into a sharp jawline, inky black hair, and amber and ebony eyes.

I imagine them with a tall, muscular frame, and clad in black leather.

And the sinister smile that takes residence on my face is uncontrollable.

During every one of my training sessions, I picture one person. The one I’m preparing to hate. The one who’s now destined to be my mortal enemy. The one who should have been mine.

At my will, the dust storm disperses with a sweep of my hand.

The guard blindly swings their sword in front of them, their blue robes billowing around their body.

I charge them and pull my legs out from underneath me, sliding across the dirt.

As I skid by them, they aim high and I lift my blade, landing it dead center across their gut.

The blunt end of the training sword is enough to knock the wind out of their lungs.

They drop their weapon and hunch over to catch their breath.

Too easy.

“Are you all right?” I ask, getting to my feet and brushing the dust from my leather trousers.

The healer that always stands at the ready during my sparring matches rushes forward, their robes flying behind them and hands glowing. This wouldn’t be the first time they bandaged someone up after we sparred, and it won’t be the last.

My challenger brushes their fellow Sibyl away. “I will be fine. The initial draw of my power was like a punch to the stomach and then when you added the dust storm and the winning blow… it was overwhelming.”

I lift my chin and clap the Sibyl on the back. “You were a good opponent.” It isn’t a lie. They had fought hard, just not hard enough for me to break a sweat.

It wasn’t always this way. There was a time when I could only use one’s gifts if they called upon them first, but now I can bend them to my will and manipulate several at a time. In seven short months, I’ve become a force to be reckoned with.

“I’m glad I could be of service, Elle,” the Sibyl says, dragging their feet as they walk away.

A slow applause comes from the corridor under the stands where a man leans against the opening. “Impressive,” he says.

I spare him a glance, taking in his lack of clothing.

Besides the scabbard bound to his back with leather straps, he’s topless.

His golden curls brush against his pale shoulders, and his bulging pectoral muscles are on full display.

The fabric of his low-sitting trousers is thin, accentuating his long legs and hulking thighs.

His attire is a far cry from the palace guard uniform he wore in Lucent and suited more for the people he chooses to spend he free time with.

“Good afternoon, Zek,” I say, placing the sword in the rack and gathering my actual weapon. I sweep my gaze over him again and shake my head. “I could almost mistake you for an Allaji. All you’re missing is a tail or fuzzy ears.”

“You asked me to not let on that the king sent me to guard you. And it’s not unheard of for the shifters to pursue someone outside their kingdom, especially when they’re as attractive as me.” His grin wrinkles the corners of his cerulean eyes and scrunches up the bridge of his distinguished nose.

With a sigh, I strap the sword my father gave me to my waist. “I’m still confused as to why Micah thought you were necessary. This has to be the safest place in all the kingdoms, and it’s not like you’re very experienced as a guard.”

“What can I say? Talent like mine can’t be ignored.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t the bulging muscles that got you the job?” I quip.

“Come on, you like the disguise. And I could always take it a step further and ask you to join me for a stroll in the gardens,” he says with a wink.

As people who can shift into animals, the Allaji are notorious for giving into the sexual desires of their counterparts. More times than I can count, I’ve found a pair—or more—rutting around in the temple gardens with no regard for onlookers.

I shoot Zek a sidelong glance before moving down the stone passageway with him right on my heels. “Sometimes I think you get a little too comfortable in your disguise, but by all means, if messing around with the Allaji will get you off my back for an evening, have at it.”

“You know I can’t let you out of my sight. Not that I would want to.”

I hold up my finger with the iron betrothal ring around it.

He snorts and says, “I understand I haven’t been around the palace for long, but even I know your promise to wed Leif doesn’t keep him out of the bed of others. So why shouldn’t you have some fun until you’re married?”

“You’re incorrigible,” I say as we reach a set of double doors.

He leans in and whispers, “You have no idea, Your Grace.”

I pull the doors open with an extra flare and hold up my middle finger, leaving him at the entrance. “You don’t have to wait for me.”

“You know I’ll be right here when you’re done,” he says.

The atheneum is four stories of enormous white bookshelves covering every wall and creating endless aisles of books.

In the center of the ceiling is a stained glass dome, depicting the gifts the Statera bestowed upon the five original kingdoms of this realm.

My gaze sweeps over the cluster of majestic animals representing Allaji, and the Sara healer with their hands aglow.

The image of the person from Esspress, with a burst of light around their head, symbolizing their ability to speak with the Statera and the spirits who dwell in its presence.

A Divine Sibyl with their hands pressed together in prayer.

The latter is exalted amongst those who reside here at the temple.

The divine are the Statera’s conduits, binding us to the promises we make before the greatest of all powers.

My heart clenches as I look at the last panel making up the magnificent colored glass.

The worldly elements controlled by the people who once belonged to one kingdom.

A divided land where some are treated as nothing more than a vessel to fuel the powers of others.

Fire, water, earth, ice, electricity, wind, darkness, light—harmoniously blended in what is now a dream version of Pliris.

Leather slaps against marble and I spin on my heels, my heart pounding in my chest.

“I’ve found a tome which may interest you,” says the ancient Sibyl, who cares for the atheneum.

This is the first time they have approached me about my quest for answers, remaining subjective on the matter. I sink into one of the many gilded chairs with white velvet cushions and fold my hands on the table’s cold stone top.

The Sibyl sits across from me and takes their time adjusting the blue veil over their head.

They run their shaky withered hand down the book’s thick brown cover, wiping away the nonexistent dust from it.

I suck my lips between my teeth and bite down as they flip through the pages painstakingly slowly.

“This is the life’s work of a Sibyl dedicated to understanding the gifts bestowed on Pliris’ people. I believe it contains the definitive answer whether one can break the parah bond.”

The parah bond—the bane of my existence.

I chose to spend my year away from my duties as Lucent’s future queen, looking for a way to sever the bond. I’ve read every passage I can get my hands on, asked my questions in every imaginable way, and I’ve yet to find the answer I seek.

The Sibyl reaches the back of the tome and pushes it in front of me. They tap a wrinkled finger on a specific passage. “This is the say all,” they say in a trembling voice.

I lean over the book and read the lines. My heart plummets to the pit of my stomach, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Taking a deep breath, I look over the script again, consuming the words one at a time.

The Statera has gifted the people of Pliris with an unwavering bond which is the embodiment of its love for those in its keep.

Ignita, Glacio, Noctist, Solsta, not even the gift of the Cognus or Cantor, is as great as the power found in the parah bond.

It unifies souls and is untamable by any other power.

Only the Sacred Statera itself is greater than this gift.