Page 18 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

“How long has House Avanos been on the throne?”

“Not long.” Myrdin motions to the Bronze Court’s banner. “High King Vorr is the first of his line. In fact,” Myrdin says, excitement rising in his voice, “Head of House, Lady Maelyrra Pelleveron’s aunt was the last in her line, before Vorr ascended to the throne.”

“What happened?” I lean forward. “Why didn’t the Pelleverons stay in power?”

“The last High Queen died without an heir,” Myrdin explains. “When that happens, the Heads of Houses or heir-apparents who seek to be the next High King or Queen challenge each other for the throne in a rite called the Fyrelith.”

My eyes widen. “They fight?”

Myrdin nods. “To the death.”

I wince.

“It’s a grisly scene, no doubt. Luckily for us,” Myrdin continues, “the centuries-long life spans of noble fae make it rare for a monarch to die without a legitimate heir.” He tilts his head to the door. “Shall we continue?”

Tearing my gaze from the Gold Court’s banner, I nod and follow him out.

We continue down the hall, passing the staircase this time.

“So, the Crown Prince is your cousin?” I ask, glancing at him.

“Yes,” Myrdin replies. His expression dims. “His mother was my father’s sister.”

My chest tightens. Having lost my own mother at a young age, I know the feeling of grief all too well. Perhaps that is one thing the Crown Prince and I have in common.

Finally, I say, “It seems the High King truly loved her.”

Myrdin’s expression brightens slightly. “He did.” Then he scrunches his brows. “But what makes you say that?”

“Lymseia told me that no one’s been allowed in the East Tower since she died.”

Myrdin only meets me with a blank stare.

“He must still be in mourning,” I say quickly, so he doesn’t suspect anything.

“Ah, yes, mourning.” Myrdin nods, turning his face from mine. “Of course.”

I look away from him and face ahead. There is something very strange going on at High Keep.

Something the High King wants to keep hidden.

But it seems the High King doesn’t trust anyone but his personal guard with his secret. Does Viridian know what his father hides in the shadows? Or has he been shut out, too?

Myrdin shows me everything. The great hall, the courtyard—which, to my pleasant surprise, is much greener than the front gates—the armory, and the kitchens, if I ever find myself in need of something to eat late at night.

“The servants don’t like it,” Myrdin tells me. “But they won’t stop you.”

“What of the dungeons?” I know it’s a slim chance that he’ll answer, but I ask anyway. “Where are they?”

“I—” Myrdin swallows. “I’m not at liberty to tell you that.”

I ball my hands into fists, digging my fingernails into my palms. Of course he’s not.

I’ll have to find Loren on my own.

I’m not leaving here without him. No matter how long it takes. It’s my fault he’s here.

At the end of the tour, Myrdin walks me back to my chambers. “I hope I didn’t bore you too much.”

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