Page 161 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

And so, our reign begins.

Life after our coronation is like life at High Keep was before, and yet, it is entirely different, all the same.

Viridian and I have many more responsibilities now. But we take each day, one step at a time, grateful for every moment we have. We still dine together in the evenings, and I spend many free moments in my studio, drawing. Now, we hang some of my drawings in frames around the castle. I wonder how long they’ll stay there, even after Viridian and I are nothing more than dust.

Now, we sit together in the great hall. Viridian no longer sits across from me, a table away. He’s taken up a new spot, directly to my right, while I sit at the head of the table.

“We have news from Myrdin,” Viridian says, taking a bite of meat and potato. “He’s arrived at Redbourne and has settled in.”

“Good,” I muse, relieved. “He’ll do well. He’s good with people.” Out of all those we could have chosen to represent us, while the kingdom recovers from the damage caused by the curse, Myrdin was the first one I thought of.

“He will.” Viridian nods. “Someday, he’ll make a fine Head of House.”

I voice my agreement in between bites.

“And what of Lymseia?” I ask, my brows stitched together.

“I don’t know,” Viridian admits. His expression morphs to match mine. “She hasn’t sent word.”

Worry lines my stomach. My movements slow.

“She’ll be all right,” Viridian says, more to himself than to me. “We’ll hear from her any day now.”

I nod. Though, I can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong.

The sound of the door scraping stone tears me from my thoughts. A servant stands, waiting by the threshold.

“Come in,” Viridian beckons.

The servant enters and approaches the table, hands clasped tightly. As if he’s nervous, or unsure.

“What is it?” I put my fork and knife down and lean forward.

“There is news of Lady Wynterliff,” the servant says.

We exchange glances. Then Viridian waves his hand, as if to prompt the servant to continue. “Please, tell us.”

The servant swallows. “There was an ambush at the Steel Court’s border.”

My heart sinks.

“All who accompanied Lady Wynterliff are dead.”

Viridian’s face pales. “Is she hurt?”

“I do not know, Your Majesty.”

“What?” Viridian asks, furrowing his brows. “How do we not know?”

Worry constricts in my chest.

I don’t need the servant to convey the message to us. His expression alone is enough to know what’s happened.

And when he does say it, it only confirms my fears.

“She’s disappeared, Your Majesties. There’s no sign of her.”

Clenching my hands into fists, I look at Viridian and meet his eyes. His mouth curls with rage, jaw clenched.

He speaks our suspicions aloud. His words hang heavy between us.

“Lymseia’s been taken.”

---