Page 139 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

“What is it?” Viridian asks, dark brows pinched together.

The servant casts a shy glance at his feet. “The High King demands to see you, Your Highness.”

Viridian groans, touching his fingers to his forehead, between his brows. “Very well. Tell my father we’ll arrive momentarily.”

“Oh, His Majesty was very clear—he only wants to see you, Your Highness.” The servant pauses, eyes shifting to me. “Not Miss Thurdred—erm, I mean, Her Highness.”

That leaves a sour taste on my tongue.

Why would Vorr single me out?

Viridian seems to share my distaste. “All the same, tell him my wife and I will see him in the throne room shortly.”

Swallowing hard, the servant nods and disappears.

Rushing from the bed, Viridian and I dress quickly.

“Tell me you weren’t expecting this,” I say, peering over at him as I attempt to fasten my bodice.

“No,” he huffs, pulling up his pants. “I was not.”

“All right,” I mutter to myself, wondering what’s come over the High King. Something’s drawn him out of the East Tower.

And I don’t know if that’s a good thing.

Viridian scowls the whole way to the throne room. I can’t blame him. My own brows are furrowed, and tension gathers in my shoulders.

He shoves open the set of double doors and storms inside. Raising the crown of my head, I follow at his heels.

The High King sits before us. Touching a gloved hand to his forehead, a weighted expression wears down his features. His breathing is ragged, sluggish, as if every breath is riddled with struggle and pain.

Vorr slowly lifts his eyes to Viridian. Then, they shift past him and land on me, narrowing.

He directs his attention back to Viridian. “You were told to come alone.”

Viridian stays silent, amber eyes simmering.

“If you’d excuse us, Miss Thurdred,” the High King says, not once breaking eye contact with Viridian, “I’d like a moment alone with my son.”

I hesitate for a moment, and then turn to leave.

“No,” Viridian says, a wave of power rippling from him. “My wife—my mate stays.”

Butterflies flutter in my stomach, pride swelling in my chest.

His mate.

Vorr starts, “Viridian—”

“Anything you wish to say to me, you say to her, too.”

Vorr furrows his brow. “So be it.” He takes a breath. “Let it be known that I warned you—neither of you will enjoy what I have to tell you.”

“Very well.” Viridian steps closer to me. Hooking his arm around my waist, he pulls me to him, pressing my back to his torso.

Vorr hangs his head. “The mining sickness you spoke of… I know the cause.”

If he hadn’t already gotten my attention, then he does now.

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