Page 12 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

I nod, but don’t meet her eyes. It’s hard to believe that she’s here for me, when she’s the one telling me that I’m a prisoner here. And when as the Captain of the High King’s Guard, she’ll be the one enforcing the Crown Prince’s ‘request.’

“Your ladies’ maids will be arriving shortly to attend to you. They’ll see to all your needs.” Lymseia’s voice warms. “You will be cared for here, Cryssa. On my honor, you have my word.”

She lingers for a moment, searching my face. I give her nothing. Then, she bows her head and leaves, gently closing the door behind her.

I may have come here willingly to protect my family, but I won’t be a prisoner. And I won’t condemn myself to be shackled to this life by marrying the Crown Prince.

I need to escape.

My body goes utterly still. I wait a moment until I’m sure Lymseia’s gone.

Then, I launch across the room to the window. If I can see how high I am, I can use the bedding to make a rope that I can then use to climb down. My fingers slide across the windowpane to open it.

I curse. The windows don’t open.

So much for being free.

Looking around the room, my eyes land on the vanity table. Perhaps there’s something in the drawers that I can use to get out of here.

Swiftly, I cross the room and crouch before the vanity table. Pulling the drawers open, I rummage through them. There’s a hairbrush, some powder puffs along with other beauty products I don’t recognize, and loose hair pins.

The hair pins seem promising. There might come a time when I’ll need to pick a lock, so I take a few and slip them into my hair.

Racking my brain, I try to think of something else. The window isn’t a dead end yet. It can still be my way out, but I’ll need to find something strong enough to break the glass. But breaking the window will surely draw attention, and I’ll need to act quickly if I choose to escape that way.

I move to the wardrobe and open it. Finely made gowns hang within it, and I push them aside, searching for anything useful. My hands linger on the one piece of clothing I would have never expected to see here, of all places.

My cloak.

The gray wool looks out of place amidst all the silks and satins.

I reach out to touch it, rubbing the material between my thumb and forefinger.

Viridian must have brought it here. He and Loren were the only others there that night, and I didn’t see it in Loren’s hand when he came running after me.

He noticed that I left it behind.

The thought stirs something in my stomach. But I promptly dismiss the feeling. Viridian may have thought to bring my cloak, but he is still the one holding me captive.

Footsteps sound in the hallway.

I quickly shut the wardrobe. The wood makes a banging noise when I do, and I wince. When the chamber door opens, I jerk back, putting some distance between myself and the wardrobe.

A cluster of servants enter, flocking to me. All of them are human.

My ladies’ maids. Lymseia meant it when she told me they’d be arriving shortly.

I hold back a sigh. I’ll have to continue planning my escape once they leave. Which I hope is soon.

With the ease of someone who’s done this many times, the ladies maids usher me into the washroom and strip me of my clothes. They turn on a faucet, and once the tub is full, they herd me into the water.

Hot water meets my skin. I suck in a breath.

One of the ladies’ maids places her hands on my shoulders, guiding them lower so my body is enveloped in the hot water. Then, there’s tugging at my hair and scrubbing at my scalp. They stretch out my arms, rubbing soap and washcloths into my skin until it’s raw. I’m embarrassed at how much grime comes out. At home, I’ve undressed in front of Acantha, and never once felt self-conscious during any of the times I’ve been naked in front of her.

But I do now.

Once they’re satisfied with my cleanliness, the ladies’ maids help me out of the tub and dry me off. Wrapping me in a silk dressing gown, they guide me out of the washroom and sit me down in front of the vanity table. In the mirror, I get a good look at myself.

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