Page 48 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

Rising to my feet, I turn and hold out my arms. The servants tighten my corset, and then guide me while I step into my gown.

“You are a vision,” Tiffy says, admiring her handiwork. “You will be the talk of the evening—I just know it!”

I nod and force a smile.

I feel as though there’s an egg lodged in my throat. Perhaps I should tell them I’m feeling ill and can’t go.

The knock at my chamber door tells me it’s too late for that.

“Ah,” Tiffy exclaims. “That’ll be your escort, Miss.”

My heart catches in my throat.

But when the door opens, it’s not Viridian standing outside.

It’s Lymseia.

Disappointment sinks in my stomach.

“Hello, Miss Thurdred.” She bows her head. “I’ll be your escort for tonight.”

“Thank you,” I say, my mouth suddenly dry, like I’ve swallowed sand.

Lymseia holds out her arm and I take it.

We walk through the halls and descend the main staircase. Sweat gathers on my palms. I fight the urge to wipe them on my gown.

My nerves threaten to overtake me, but Nefine’s teaching runs through my mind.

“Appearances are key to one’s reputation.”

I force myself to breathe.

I hone my energy, channeling it into what I hope is the picture of grace.

“Your reputation is your sharpest sword.”

Then I will come armed.

We stop before the double doors.

Lymseia looks at me, her expression kind. “Are you ready?”

I take a deep breath. Once I go through these doors, there’s no going back.

“I’m ready.”

Lymseia nods and gestures to the guards standing before us. They open the doors.

Just inside the ballroom stands a man in fine clothes. His rounded ears tell me he’s human.

Lymseia leaves my side and whispers to him. She steps back, falling in place next to me.

The steward clears his throat. “Miss Cryssa Thurdred, promised bride to His Highness the Crown Prince.”

The ballroom falls silent. Everyone’s looking at me.

My heart thrums in my chest, beating against my ribcage. The muscles in my throat constrict, making it harder to breathe.

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