Page 10 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

My mouth parts in awe. Slyfell is by no means a small city. But the sheer number of people I see here in Keuron makes it seem so. Even though it wasn’t my choice to come here, I can’t help but feel drawn to the city’s vibrant activity. Whereas Slyfell is relatively quiet and safe, Keuron is loud and new and exciting. It makes me wonder what else is out there, what the cities in the other Courts look like.

We ride through the city until we reach a wooden drawbridge. A moat separates the land across the bridge from the rest of the city. In the center of the man-made island sits a large castle—High Keep. The seat of power of all Inatia, home to the royal family. The Crown Prince.

And now, it’s my home, too.

My gilded prison.

We wait a moment, and then chains lower the drawbridge.

Once it’s secure, the horses pull the carriage over the bridge, and more of the castle comes into view. The stone bricks are worn with age but look well-maintained. There isn’t much greenery, but what vegetation is there is finely trimmed into neat squares and rectangles. Two thin towers stand guard at either side of the bridge, where a steel gate stands between the castle and the outside world. Bronze colored banners, adorned with the circular crest of House Avanos, hang down from the towers and sway gently in the wind.

The gate rises as we approach, and the carriage passes under its teeth.

Panic grips my stomach when I realize I’ve lost sight of the prison wagon. I have no idea where Loren is now.

Or what fate awaits him.

But my own fate surges to the forefront of my mind. Unease skitters across the back of my neck, my stomach twisting into knots. Seeing what lies ahead, I mutter a prayer to Imone, Goddess of Mercy, for Loren. And for myself.

A line of guards stand at the castle’s entrance.

And front and center, stands who I assume to be the High King, with the Crown Prince at his side.

High King Vorr smiles when the carriage slows to a stop. It’s a polite smile, a decent attempt at warmth. He wears leather gloves, and his clasped hands rest by his waist. A regal, bronze crown sits atop his head of cropped black hair. To his right, wearing a similar crown made from the same metal, the Crown Prince Viridian doesn’t even attempt to mask his displeasure.

The carriage trembles when the guards disembark.

I wait for them to come around to my door. The guard closest to the carriage opens the door and holds out his hand.

I don’t take it and exit on my own. The guard doesn’t say anything, merely shutting the carriage door after me. With nothing more to do, the guards position themselves around me, one on each side. As if they’re waiting to see if I’ll run.

The thought does cross my mind. But with the drawbridge likely up, I doubt I would make it far.

“Cryssa, is it?” the High King asks. Much to my surprise, his voice is warmer than his smile or his burnt-orange eyes. “Welcome to Keuron.”

There’s a tense silence, and then the High King turns to his son with a pointed look.

“Yes, welcome,” Viridian echoes, as if he forgot why we were all here.

Out here, in broad daylight, I see more of him than I did that night in the stables. His fair skin seems to shimmer in the sunlight, his wispy, medium-length black hair combed away from his face. Still, tendrils of it fall in front of his eyes. Those amber eyes study me, with a tightness in his jaw that I can’t read.

Part of me wants to stay quiet. To deny them the pleasure of my response.

But I also want to live long enough to free Loren and make our escape. And being rude to the High King and Crown Prince seems contradictory to that goal.

So, I force myself to bow, even though I would rather walk across hot coals. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“If you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to. Viridian,” the High King says, gloved hands gesturing to me, “escort your betrothed to her chambers.”

Viridian dips his head in response. “Very well.”

Just as I expected, his voice is cold, monotone.

Pretentious noble fae prick.

With that, the High King and a slew of guards enter the castle. The remaining guards stand at attention, looking to Viridian for his command.

“Come,” Viridian says, keeping his eyes away from me. He turns on his heels, using two fingers to motion for the guards to follow. The female guard closest to him nods, then signals to the rest, who move to form a unit around me—two in front of me, two behind, and one on each of my sides. Viridian leads us, with the female guard trailing him, and the guards surrounding me move as one.

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