Crown of Feathers (Book 2 of the Crown Trilogy)

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 opponents. The clanking bounces off the tall, white pillars and empty viewing boxes throughout the temple's training arena. My hold on the sword 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 plump 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. It's not surprising they want me to use my unique gift against them. Every warrior I've come across on this field thinks they will be the one to pose a real challenge to my ability.

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 Terra—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 androgenetic 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 is 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 pull my legs out from underneath me and slide 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 standing 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 is topless, his golden curls brushing against his pale shoulders, and his bulging pectoral muscles 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.