Page 130 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

Gods above.

If the land itself is sick, then…

It’s so much worse than I could have ever imagined.

I clear my throat. “Is there fresh water?”

“Yes, thank the gods,” the farmer tells me. “There’s a small creek just up the road, at the edge of town.”

Thanking him, I nod and tug at Storm’s reins. I’d wanted to stop here and rest, but after seeing the town’s desolation, I don’t want to stay a moment longer than I need to.

I can’t. There’s no time to spare.

Leading Storm out of the town, we pass through farmland. Running water echoes in the distance, telling me we’re close.

But even out here, that awful stench still permeates the air.

My steps slow as I approach. Reaching the edge of a large field, I crouch, touching my fingers to the soil to steady myself.

On the ground before me, are blackened clumps of what used to be some kind of vegetable. It’s so dark and rotted, that I can’t tell what it once was. Fuzzy, green mold has claimed it, covering whatever it is with a layer of sickly fur. Looking up from the decayed vegetable, I see the plant itself hasn’t been spared from the rot. Its once green leaves are now a sickly shade of gray, with vile spots of blackened disease.

Slowly, I rise to my feet.

The rot has consumed the entire field. No crop has been left untouched, devoured by its ravenous hunger.

Panic laces my movements, quickening my speed. I tug Storm away from the field, and cross what area remains between me and the creek.

When I reach the stream, I kneel at its bank.

Anxiety sets me on edge, and I dip my hands into the water. Is it truly safe? Or has the water been infected, like the land?

Cupping some in my hand, I lift the water to my nose. It doesn’t smell off, and it’s crystal clear, seemingly untainted. I take a small sip, letting it linger on my tongue before swallowing.

Once I’ve deemed the water to be safe to drink, I swallow several greedy gulps. With some coaxing, Storm laps water into his mouth. I pull out some apples, one for me, and three—actually, make that four—for Storm. After we’ve both eaten and rested, I wash my hands in the stream and wipe my mouth. Catching a whiff of myself, I grimace. I smell nearly as bad as the rot.

I eye the water, considering whether or not to wade in and clean myself. Though, without any soap, I doubt how much good it will do.

I can bathe when I return to High Keep.

After securing the last two apples in the saddle bag, I mount Storm and urge him forward, into a fast trot.

Anger knits my brows.

Whether Maelyrra Pelleveron wants to admit it or not, the curse has the Gold Court firm in its grasp. It won’t be long now before angry, desperate humans reach her doorstep. Maybe then, she’ll be forced to listen.

But Maelyrra has never cared for the humans living within her borders. Few noble fae ever do.

Resolve blazes in my chest, roaring like the strongest of fires.

When I am High Queen, things will be different.

With a flick of the reins, Storm breaks into a gallop. Come dawn, the day after tomorrow, I will arrive at High Keep.

And I will do whatever it takes to save my people.

Even if it costs me my life.

Chapter Thirty-Four

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