Page 74 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

My stomach sinks. Perhaps he’s merely dropping the act now that there are no servants around to watch us. Somehow, that thought makes me feel so much worse.

When we arrive, Myrdin and Lymseia are already waiting for us. Myrdin sits at the small desk, while Lymseia paces about the room.

“You’ve returned,” Lymseia says when she sees us.

“Yes.” Viridian nods. “Thank you for meeting us.”

“Of course, cousin.” Myrdin’s brows furrow. “Your faces tell me you weren’t as successful as you would have liked.”

“No,” Viridian says while glancing at me. “But we did learn something.”

“Do tell.” Lymseia puts her hands on her hips.

“The talk of the town is of our engagement ball,” I say. “And how it’s the first ball to be hosted by the crown in a century.”

“The people seem to think that something happened at the last ball.” Viridian’s voice slows. “Something that turned my father into a recluse.”

“You mean…” Myrdin pauses. “Something that happened before your mother died?”

“Yes,” Viridian says.

“What do the people think happened at this ball to make the High King wary of the world?” Lymseia asks, crossing her arms.

“Nothing conclusive,” Viridian answers.

“Ah.” She leans her head back. “Very helpful.”

“It’s given us a starting point,” I say, my defenses rising. “We’re not finished.”

“Cryssa is right,” Viridian says. His support eases my rough exterior. “We must continue searching for the answers.”

“Have you given this some thought?” Lymseia asks slowly, as if she were treading with caution. “If your father truly wants these secrets to stay buried, and he finds out that we’ve been poking around his dirty laundry, we could be arrested for treason.”

“Or worse, hanged,” Myrdin adds darkly.

My stomach clenches at the thought.

“I have,” Viridian says, firm in his resolve. “I won’t let any more miners die. My father might choose to do nothing, but that doesn’t mean I will. Human families need the metals to survive. They are the backbone of our kingdom.” He turns to me, and his eyes instantly find mine. “Without them, we are nothing.”

I open my mouth slightly, lips curving into the hint of a smile. His words resonate, striking a chord within me.

Spoken by the future High King of all Inatia. Spoken like a true king, who cares for and protects all of his people. Not only those closest to him.

Viridian’s gaze lingers on me for a moment, before turning his face back to Myrdin and Lymseia. “I understand if you don’t want to be part of this.”

“If you’re doing this, then so are we.” Lymseia bows her head. “I would follow you into the fires of hell.”

“As would I.” Myrdin copies her motion.

Viridian places a hand on Myrdin’s shoulder, glancing between him and Lymseia. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Myrdin says. “For Inatia.”

“For Inatia,” Lymseia echoes.

“For Inatia.” Viridian’s words are solid, like the earth.

“For Inatia,” I say. For Father and Acantha. For every human family who has lost someone to the mining sickness or risks losing their livelihood if the earth is fully drained of metal.

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