Page 47 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Without looking away from me, he steps backward and reaches for the knob of the door next to mine. He says simply, “I’m not staying for you. I’m going to my room.”

Before I can respond, he opens the door and steps inside.

Now, it’s my turn to stand in the hallway looking like a fool.

I stare after him, the realization ringing in my head. As if things could get any worse.

Viridian’s bedchamber shares a wall with mine.

“Of course it does,” I huff dryly. The gods would be that cruel, wouldn’t they?

Stepping into my room, I shut the door with a groan. Even though I’m back in my own chamber, the sight and smell of the East Tower lingers. I can’t stop seeing the decay that’s taken root there. The sickly sight of the High King’s quarters. The filth that he returns to night after night.

So many questions run through my mind.

What caused the decay in the East Tower?

Why does the High King have so many pairs of black gloves?

And what does all of this have to do with my betrothal?

I thought investigating the East Tower would give me answers. But all it’s done is leave me with more dead ends. More unanswered questions.

I know one thing.

If I want to survive here, I need to find out what’s wrong with the East Tower.

Before whatever evil lurks there swallows me whole.

Chapter Twelve

The day I’ve been dreading has finally arrived.

Come evening, my ladies’ maids swarm my bedchamber, with Tiffy leading the charge. Cradling a gown in her arms, she approaches and holds it out for me to see.

“His Highness had it made for this evening,” Tiffy tells me, beaming. “Isn’t it lovely, Miss?”

My mouth parts while my eyes drink in the fabric. It’s a brilliant royal blue that seems to shimmer in the light. An intricate twist of swirling vines and roses decorate the skirt and bodice. I reach out to touch it, expecting some kind of lace detailing. But I find it’s not lace—it’s spun gold metal woven into the gown. The skirt is full, with a layer of taffeta to thank for its shape, and the sleeves reach just past my elbows, hemmed with more gold.

I shudder when I think of how much this dress must cost.

“Viridian…” I murmur. “He commissioned this? For me?”

Tiffy nods. “He did.”

As much as I hate to admit it, the dress is gorgeous. Allora, the Goddess of Peace and Beauty, herself would envy its beauty.

“Come,” Tiffy says once she’s laid the gown on my bed. “Let’s get you ready.”

She leads me to the washroom and into a tub of hot water. Much like they did my first night at High Keep, my ladies maids’ scrub my skin and scalp until I’m free of any dirt or oil. Then Tiffy leads me back into my bedchamber and sits me at my vanity table. She and one other servant braid my hair and twist it around my head in an intricate style. When they finish, I barely recognize myself in the mirror.

Who is this girl I see before me?

She looks like a lady. If it weren’t for my rounded ears, I would look fae.

I look away, curling my fingers.

I am not a lady. Am I?

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