Page 145 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

He dips his head to me, before facing ahead.

“What is the meaning of this? Surely, you know it is the dead of night?” a noble fae male with dark hair and silvery eyes—who I recognize as Head of House Larmanne—asks. He rubs the sleep from his eyes, the slight movement potent with annoyance. Asheros Larmanne sits beside him, looking equally as tired, but lacks his father’s irritation.

“I have summoned you here, Lord Larmanne,” Viridian says, looking at him with a shrouded expression, “because my father is dead.”

The elder Silver Court lord’s face falls. The annoyance coloring his expression vanishes, leaving no trace behind. “His Majesty is…”

“Dead,” Viridian repeats. “Yes.” He doesn’t miss a beat. “He was murdered. And the murderer is still in the castle, somewhere among us.”

While he speaks, I search the councilor’s faces, looking for any sign that something might be off. If someone here is to blame for the High King’s death, they may falter. Even if only for a moment.

Viridian and I stand at the head of the table—me to the left, and Viridian to the right. To Viridian’s right, sit Tanyl and Myrdin, representing House Tarrantree, of course. Myrdin’s brows are wound tight with pain, and he leans forward toward Viridian, as if to offer him comfort. Tanyl shares his son’s expression, only, he hangs his head, muttering a soft prayer.

I doubt that Myrdin or Tanyl are responsible, though, I can’t be sure. I can’t think of what either would have to gain by killing Vorr—if the murder was a grab for power, why would they spare Viridian? As long as he lives, the Bronze Court’s claim to the throne is secure.

Though, with Vorr gone, I fear Viridian may have a target on his back.

Next, I look further down the table, to Tanyl’s left. Representing the Silver Court are Lord Eldred and Asheros. The former still looks as if he’s seen a ghost, face void of color. Asheros has gone still, brows raised in shock.

I don’t know much about the Silver Court’s allegiances, but Myrdin’s told me they stand on shaky ground with the Bronze Court. Gold and Silver have been allied for decades, but in more recent times, House Larmanne has cooperated with House Avanos. It doesn’t clear them of fault, but their ties to the throne are long-distant, making them lack the motivation.

Then, I direct my attention to my side of the table. Directly to my left, sit the Steel Court representatives. Lymseia’s mother and sister: Head of House, Lady Kylantha Wynterliff, and heir-apparent, Vestella Wynterliff. Myrdin’s told me that the Steel and Bronze Courts have been allied for decades, sharing common goals for peace and stability for the kingdom. Given Lymseia’s position as Captain of the High King’s guard, it seems that they’d be unlikely to murder the High King and jeopardize her place here. Then again, with Lymseia’s proximity to the High King, it’s possible that they conspired together.

No.

I trust Lymseia. She wouldn’t do this. And if her mother and sister are responsible—which I have no reason to believe they are—then they would have done so without her knowing.

Which only leaves one court left. The one noble House that has always contended the Bronze Court’s rule.

Just as my eyes land on her, Head of House, Lady Maelyrra Pelleveron, opens her mouth.

“With our kingdom weak, now more than ever, we need fae sitting on the throne,” Maelyrra interjects, mouth curled with distaste. To her side, a young fae male hardens his expression. His head of dark red hair, sun-kissed skin tone, and yellow eyes tells me that he’s Maelyrra’s son, Nisroth Pelleveron. To be here, at her side, he must also be the Gold Court’s heir-apparent.

“I’d suggest you tread very lightly, Lady Pelleveron,” Viridian warns, blue flickers of electricity twisting up his arms, “before you say another word about my wife.”

Most Heads of House and their heir-apparents gasp, all focus trained on the blue ripples circling Viridian’s forearms. Taken aback, confusion and fear etches into their faces. The room falls eerily silent. Eyeing Viridian, Nisroth places his palms to the table, poised to stand. Watching. Waiting to see what Viridian will do next.

I let their shock set in for a moment, before clearing my throat.

“I am your High Queen. And I am fae.” My voice echoes through the chamber, and I move my eyes to each of the council members. All of whom stare at me. “But I am also human.”

“Even worse,” Maelyrra retorts, making no effort to hide her disdain. “A half-breed.”

Nisroth makes a face I can’t read.

Viridian curls his fist, gathering his power.

But I don’t give him the chance to wield it. “Then I am your half-breed. I am of your blood—Pelleveron blood.”

Maelyrra’s eyes widen, but Nisroth only furrows his brow. It’s clear by the look on her face that she knows that I’m Helenia’s daughter. Her niece. She lowers her voice. “I thought I’d had you disposed of.”

“Well, I wasn’t,” I grind out, suppressing my anger. “And you will bow before me, or you will make an enemy of the crown.” I raise my chin. “So, choose wisely.”

Maelyrra clenches her jaw, face red with fury. Making a much wiser decision than I thought her to be capable of, she stays silent. But Nisroth only narrows his eyes, his focus falling to the table.

“Your Majesty,” Lady Kylantha says to Viridian. “You believe the late High King’s murderer is still in the castle, correct?”

“Yes.” Viridian nods, relaxing his shoulders. The blue electricity fades, until there aren’t any sparks left. “As of right now, my father’s orders not to open the castle gates are still in effect. “With the drawbridge down and the gates closed, no one should have been able to enter or exit without the guards hearing of it.”

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