Page 118 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

I brush away the thought. No good can come from dwelling on the past.

“Cryssa Thurdred,” the priestess says, her attention landing on me. “With Ohesis’s blessing, do you accept His Highness, the Crown Prince Viridian Avanos, future High King of all Inatia, to be your wedded husband, from this day to your last?”

Feeling the High King’s icy stare on me, I swallow the lump in my throat.

“Yes.” I nod. Then I utter those fateful words. The words that swing down upon me like an executioner’s blade. “I do.”

The priestess looks at Viridian next. “And do you, Your Highness, Crown Prince Viridian Avanos, future High King of all Inatia, with Ohesis’s blessing, accept Cryssa Thurdred to be your wedded wife, from this day to your last?”

Viridian hangs his head forward, briefly closing his eyes. I wish I could wipe away the heavy expression that I see there and ease his pain.

But I am only human, and I can’t undo what I’ve done.

“Yes,” he says at last. Still, he avoids my gaze, even as he says the words that will bind us until death. “I do.”

The priestess raises her hands. “Then by the grace of Ohesis, we pray that this union pleases him, and all of the gods. And with his divine blessing, this union is sanctified.”

Viridian turns to face the crowd. I do the same.

The audience claps. Instantly, I pick out Myrdin and Lymseia among the sea of faces. They don similar, disheartened expressions, their movements slow and labored.

Viridian takes my hand, though the motion is rigid and forced. Then, we walk down the aisle together, into the castle, and lead the crowd to the ballroom. There, we greet the guests. And when we’ve spoken to everyone, we take to the floor for our first dance.

It brings me back to the first time we danced here, in this ballroom.

He held me close then. Now, there is an uncomfortable distance between us, and we dance in silence.

What I would give, to rebuild what I’ve broken.

The dance ends, and Viridian releases me, taking a step back.

“Viridian…” I start.

But he doesn’t listen. He turns his back to me and walks away.

My feet are frozen in place. All I can seem to do is look after him.

I find the strength to move, with half a mind to drown my sorrows in fae wine. Only now, there will be no Viridian to look out for me when I do.

So, I don’t pick up a goblet when waitstaff pass me with a tray full of them.

“Cryssa!” Lymseia calls when she spots me. She advances, quickly closing the gap between us.

“What is it?” I ask. Chills trickle down my arms. I instantly know something’s not right. “What’s wrong?”

Her eyes flick behind me, to someone standing at my back. Then she levels her gaze. “It’s your father.”

My heart falls.

The way she says the words tells me that something terrible will follow. When she does, it’s much worse than I could have ever imagined.

“He’s fallen ill.” Sorrow fills her expression. “It’s the mining sickness.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Panic seizes me, and it steals all the breath from my lungs.

Father is ill.

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