Page 159 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

Our coronation is held less than a fortnight later.

In that time, efforts to repair High Keep have begun, though they’re still underway. It seems the human rioters caused more damage than we thought. Vorr’s body was brought down from the wall and tended to by the finest Copper Court healers in preparation for his burial, and all the blood stains have been removed from the stone. Though, I can never truly forget the sight. Every time he passes the entrance to the East Tower, Viridian flinches and turns his face away.

We’ve begun to search for Vorr’s killer, though, there isn’t much to guide our efforts. Whoever murdered the late High King knew how to cover up their tracks. Despite this, I continue to assure Viridian that we will have justice, in due time. Every time I do, he only offers me a small smile with a squeeze of my arm.

Meanwhile, Viridian and I decided to pardon the surviving rioters, though we made it clear that should they act against the crown ever again, we will not be merciful. So far, the kingdom is at peace—though it seems to stand on unstable ground.

Still, we could not wait to act. With the passing of power from Vorr to Viridian and me, while countless humans across all of the five Courts work to rebuild their lives, we knew the crown needed to be present in each of them. After deliberation with the council, Viridian and I decided to send one representative from the council to each of the five Courts’ capitals. And where it was possible, we chose people we trust. Which we found to be few.

Myrdin, to Redbourne. And Lymseia, back home to Illnamoor.

Myrdin accepted his assignment without question.

Lymseia, on the other hand… Well, that took some convincing.

“You can’t just send me away,” she’d protested, crossing her arms. “I’m the Captain of the High King’s Guard.”

“We’ve granted you a higher position, as a diplomat,” Viridian had told her.

“Then who will take my place?” Lymseia had asked, pressing her palm to her brow, clearly distressed. “You can’t pick just anyone.”

“We need someone we can trust. We need you, Lymseia,” Viridian had pleaded. “If you accept this assignment, then you will be solely responsible for choosing your successor. And we will appoint them without question. Deal?”

“Fine,” Lymseia had grumbled. “But I’m not going anywhere until the position is filled.”

“Very well.” Viridian—and I—had sighed in relief.

The position had been filled by one of Lymseia’s most trusted lieutenants: a demi-fae soldier from the Silver Court, named Sura Vilsdottyr. I didn’t know much about the ranks of the High King’s Guard, but even I was impressed by her skill and the articulate way in which she speaks.

When the curse broke, the rot disappeared from the East Tower. What once was an isolated cavern of sickness and decay, now looks like any other part of the castle. Despite that, it remains abandoned. Though, Vorr’s expanse collection of black leather gloves still lay out on the table in his bed chamber. Viridian can’t bring himself to dispose of them. And I don’t blame him.

The ill miners all made miraculous recoveries. The people say that at some point, an invisible blast spread through the land, and they suddenly were healed. The harvests show signs of being bountiful again, and the flow of metals between the five Courts is abundant, once more.

All is as it should be.

Though, when I think of the curse, there are still so many unanswered questions.

What did Vorr take?

Who is the stranger, with power strong enough to strike fear at the very mention of her?

And more importantly, where is she now?

I hope to someday find answers to these questions. Though, I don’t know if I ever will.

Tiffy knocks at my door and opens it, poking her head in.

“It’s time!” she squeals, giddy with excitement.

She enters my—and now, Viridian’s—bedchamber, and shoos him out. “I’m sorry Your Majesty, but we need ample room to get her ready.”

Viridian only laughs, backing away with his hands held up in surrender. “Of course, I understand.” He leans down to press a kiss to my cheek, that wicked smile tugging at his lips. “I will see you in the throne room, my queen.”

I return his smile, happy nerves jumbling in my stomach. “You’d better be waiting for me.”

“I’d hate to disappoint you.” He winks at me, as Tiffy quite literally shoves him out the door.

I chuckle, amused by the scene playing out before me.

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