Page 147 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

“If we die, then you’ll die with us!”

Even as they tear down our banners, set any furniture or cloth aflame with their torches, and push past fleeing human servants, I can’t help but pity them. After seeing Hylmfirth…

These people have lost everything. Their loved ones. Their livelihoods. Even the food that sustains them.

They don’t understand why the miners fell ill. Why the mines have nothing left to give. Why their crops died.

They don’t know about the curse.

What they do know, is that their High King did nothing while they starved and suffered and died.

Of course they’re angry. I would be, too, if I were them.

But I’m not them. Not anymore. Now, my greatest concern is for my husband and mate. If any of those humans touch a single hair on his head…

I will not hesitate to unleash hell on earth.

“You have to go,” I urge Viridian, pushing him away. “They’ll see your ears and they’ll kill you.” It doesn’t take much to know these humans are on a warpath. They’ll kill any fae they see to feed their craving for vengeance.

“No,” Viridian’s voice is firm. “I’m not leaving you. And I’m not leaving them,” he says, motioning his head to the servants. “We need to get them out of here.”

“Fine,” I tell him. “But I’m not leaving your side.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Little Fawn.”

“Good.” I nod, and then we head northeast, toward the kitchens and the servants’ quarters.

Luckily, it seems as though the rioters are leaving the human servants alone, though, they don’t seem to care who gets caught in the crossfire. Most of the servants seem to have already left, though some have been trapped between burning wood and stone walls.

Viridian scans our surroundings. He lunges for a torn banner that, somehow, managed to escape the flames, and throws it over the fire. Quickly, with the banner between his fingers and the burning debris, he picks it up and throws it out of the way. Viridian draws his hand back and winces, sucking in a breath through clenched teeth. The motion doesn’t fully clear the path, but it’s enough that the servants are able to pass. They quickly give us their thanks and run off, asking the gods to watch over them.

I almost want to tell them to save their prayers. But something tells me that the gods are watching.

Perhaps even a little too closely.

Directing my attention back to Viridian, I outstretch my palms, my hands feeling empty. I close my fingers, as if around a phantom weapon. Looking around, I dart to the nearest suit of armor and wrench its sword from its hand. The blade is dull, since I know it’s purely meant for decoration, but it’ll do some serious damage if I need it to.

“Good idea,” Viridian quips, doing the same. He tosses the sword between his hands, probably to get a feel for its weight.

Now that we’re both armed, we continue our sweep of the halls, helping servants escape wherever we can. I don’t let my eyes linger long enough to take in the severity of High Keep’s ruin.

“Viridian! Cryssa!”

We both turn toward the voice.

“Thank the gods.” Lymseia slows from a jog when she approaches us. “Are you two all right?”

Panting, I nod. Viridian does the same.

“Good,” Lymseia breathes. “Myrdin and I were worried when we couldn’t find you.”

“Where is Myrdin?” Viridian asks, concern lacing his voice. “Is he hurt?”

“He’s fine,” Lymseia assures him. “He’s guiding the council members outside, to the grounds. He told me to meet him in the forest. They’re taking cover there.”

“Good,” Viridian muses approvingly. “That’s wise. Noble fae may be powerful, but the humans greatly outnumber us.”

Lymseia glances between us. “I came to get you both and escort you there. The others are waiting.”

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