Page 44 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

“Will the High King dance?” I ask.

“No. His Majesty is not one for social events, I am afraid,” Nefine tells me. Her mouth stretches thin, brows stitching together. “He has not been since—” she clears her throat “—for a very long time.”

“Why?” I lean forward. Something in her voice tells me that there’s more to the story than she wants me to believe.

Nefine adjusts her posture. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with. Let us go again, shall we?”

We practice the dance routine again, but I can’t stop thinking about what she told me.

What happened that made High King Vorr wary of social events?

And what does it have to do with the secrets hidden within the East Tower?

“You must carry yourself as a lady does,” Nefine chides me, demanding my full attention. “Chin up, back straight. You must glide across the floor as if you were balancing a tome on your head.”

I nod, taking a breath.

We continue to practice until my feet whine in protest.

Nefine must notice, because she releases me and steps back. “That is enough for tonight. We shall meet daily until the ball.”

I hold back a groan. How am I supposed to piece together the mystery of High Keep if I’m to attend these lessons every evening?

“Do not give me that look.” Nefine straightens her shoulders. “Time is of the essence, my dear. You must be ready for your first appearance as the Crown Prince’s betrothed.”

I wrap my arms around myself, pretending to listen.

“He has not been since—for a very long time.”

There’s something Nefine isn’t telling me. Even Lymseia dodged my questions when I first arrived.

There’s something no one will talk about.

Something the High King doesn’t want to be discussed.

If I’m going to stay here, I need answers. I need to unravel the truth.

And I know exactly where to start.

The East Tower.

Chapter Eleven

After breakfast the next morning, I make my way up to the second floor. I dart into the hallway, opposite the entrance to the East Tower, and press my body to the wall. I slow my breathing, urging my beating heart to slow.

Feet shuffle on stone, echoing through the open space.

Leaning forward, I crane my neck just enough to see the High King and his personal guard emerge from the East Tower. The five guards are stoic, arranged around him to form a protective barrier. The High King descends the main staircase, the guards moving in perfect time around him.

This is my opportunity.

My chance to see what lurks in the East Tower.

I wait a moment until I’m sure the High King won’t be returning any time soon. Then, I move from the hall and carefully approach the entrance. When I reach it, I hesitate.

Adrenaline courses through me and nerves dance in my stomach. If I get caught, I could be arrested. Or worse, executed for treason.

But I find myself frozen in place.

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