"I've brought you a recruit," Leif says, moving to the side and leaving me framed in the doorway.

The scent of cinnamon and campfire overwhelms me, and my heart flutters. It still smells like my father in here. I take a step closer, soaking in every detail—the wood paneling covering the metal walls and the rows of dark cabinets which undoubtedly hold a vast selection of weapons. My gaze lingers on the desk, a replica of the one in my father's study at home. It's littered with maps and stacks of old war journals; he would have never left it in such disarray. The floor to ceiling bookshelves with a ladder perched in the center, the leather couch, the artwork depicting past battles—my father has left his stamp throughout the room.

Hope ignites within me, and I quickly take in the faces of the four figures seated at a round table. A slender man watches me from over his shoulder. His red beard is a stark contrast to his pale bald head, and his blue eyes are an unnerving mixture of kind and menacing. I question if the man next to him is old enough to join the army. Jaw length braids frame his russet baby face, and his smile demands I return the friendly gesture. The only woman in the group glares at me beneath thick lashes. She puckers her full lips and flexes her arms, which are easily the size of watermelons. A long chestnut ponytail sits high atop her head, with the hair on the sides buzzed to her scalp. The last person at the table slowly closes the book in front of him, trapping a piece of paper inside. He brushes a wayward strand of jet-black hair away from his deep-set angular eyes, and I suck in a breath when our gazes meet. His irises are pitch black with gold rings surrounding his pupils.

He is a Stigian.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and a dark, disturbing feeling washes over me. I look away and focus on my father's desk again. A Stigian here in my father's office...in the Lucent army. It's unheard of; no one leaves Esmeray once they enter her kingdom. And even if it was possible to leave our rival kingdom, my father would never trust a Stigian Khiros with his soldiers. This man is the epitome of what our army fights against.

"You are all dismissed," says a smooth, deep voice.

My head snaps up to see who spoke, but I'm too late. Everyone is on their feet heading for the door.

The one with the baby's face moves past me first. "Good luck," he says, with another broad smile.

The woman follows behind him and isn't shy about looking me up and down. "She's gonna need it," she says, invoking a hearty chuckle from the bald man.

Leif squeezes past me, keeping his head high and whispers, "Relax, you got this."

Relax? I've known my best friend to do some wild things, but leaving me in a room with a Stigian has to be the craziest.

The Stigian watches me as he steps around my father's desk, running his slender fingers along the edges. The muscles in his jaw flex, accentuating his high cheekbones and square chin. He removes his black leather jacket and drapes it over the back of the chair. His dark tunic clings to his muscular arms and forms a deep V under his neck, displaying the smooth fawn skin of his chest.

"Sit," he says, gesturing to the chair across the desk.

A haunting feeling washes over me, uncomfortably warm. This isn't right; your father would not leave his soldiers in the care of his enemy. But Leif wouldn't leave me with someone he didn't trust, and this man is the key to finding my father before it's too late.

"Shit," I say to myself and step inside.

"Close the door behind you."

I jump at the command and quickly push the heavy door shut. If walking through the streets of Basecamp made me feel like a hunted lamb, this is my slaughter.

It takes every ounce of self-control not to place my hand over the hilt of my sword. I ball my hands into fist and allow my curiosity to pull me forward. Even as my feet drag, something urges me on like I'm hook at the end of a rope and being tugged closer. I sink into the chair, clasp my fingers together, and keep him in my line of vision.

"Why do you want to join the Lucent army?" he asks, sitting across from me.

I rub my thumb along the underside of my betrothal ring. "I...um...well..." I should have expected such a basic question; I would have been better prepared if he pounced on me and tried to drain me of my dormant powers. Instead, I'm fumbling with my words and appearing like anything but a capable soldier.

The acting general leans back in his chair and concentrates on rolling up his sleeves of his shirt. I'm losing his interest and my chance to save my father. Leif's words from earlier echo in my mind. Charm your way in. I muster my courage, recall all the lessons I received for stressful and delicate situations, and bend the odds in my favor.

"Revenge," I say, blurting out the first thought that comes to mind.

The man across from me lifts his chilling gaze and cocks a brow.

I let out a breath and start again. "Someone close to me was taken, and I want to bring them back or tear apart every corner of that kingdom. I'll stop at nothing, even taking out every single Sti—" I clasp my mouth shut.

"Stigian?"

Fuck! Why is it my mouth seems to not be syncing up with my brain? Not wanting to offend him and blow my chance, I give a diplomatic response. "I'll do whatever it takes, sir...General...um..." I press my fingers to my temples and squeeze my eyes shut.

"General LeFur."

His last name hits a nerve with me. It's familiar, as it is to everyone in Lucent—Micah's last name—the name the king gives to children who lost their parents to Stigian. It acts as a reminder that they still belong to a family and are never alone. How did an orphaned Stigian end up in a Lucent military camp as its general?

Every second I sit here, my questions mount, and I move further away from finding any answers. I wasn't completely delusional about the complexities of the task before me, but General LeFur is an obstacle I never fathomed.

He opens a journal and studies a page, ignoring me completely.

I lean forward, ready to demand his attention, when a bout of lightheadedness washes over me. I grip the arm of the chair and take a deep breath. A power making its presence known is not unheard of. Micah, Borin, my mother, and Salone's gifts all have distinct markers. I could be blindfolded and easily tell who is in the room with me. But this man's power is unlike anything I've encountered—a sickening swirl of dark and heat. The dueling sensations build in the base of my throat, but I push past the discomfort and my voice comes out raspy. "General LeFur, I don't want to join just any regiment; I want to be a part of my fa—yours. I know your soldiers are the best, and that's where I want to be."

"They are the best and I expect nothing less from those who join their ranks. It will not be easy. In fact, few make it through the training."

"I will. I do whatever it takes."

"We will see. You'll start your training tomorrow. Be at the stables at dawn." He flicks his wrist in dismissal, not bothering to me look at me.

I should feel offended. No one but those closest to me has ever shown me such blatant disregard. Everyone addresses me formally and stands in reverence as I exit a room. They treat me like their future queen and not a common nuisance. But the people here don't know who I am, and for the first time in my life, my status will not proceed me.

"Thank you for this opportunity," I say, getting to my feet and making my way to the door.

"By the way, you might want to ditch the fancy clothes; you don't want to get them dirty. We don't have maid service here, princess."

I flinch and open my mouth to dispute the title, but quickly shut it. He's mocking me, much like the guard who called me a little lady. No one will rush to hand me anything here. For the first time in my life, I'm going to have to prove my worth before I earn respect. And that's precisely what I intend to do.

I yank the door open and say, "Will do, sir."