Page 53 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

I emerge not too long after them and make my way to the kitchens in search of something to eat. Toast should do nicely for my uneasy stomach.

When I get there, the kitchens are bustling with servants. Lymseia is here, too, spreading some kind of fruit jam onto a slice of bread.

“Miss Thurdred.” She bows her head. “How are you this morning?”

“All right,” I tell her.

“I bet.” She smirks. “The wine will do that.”

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “You heard about that?”

“I did.” Lymseia laughs. “Don’t worry. Viridian only told me to keep an eye on you. No embarrassing details, I swear.” She motions to the bread and jam. “Want some?”

“Yes, please,” I say.

Lymseia cuts a slice and adds a generous helping of jam before handing it to me.

I take it. “Thank you.” Sinking my teeth into it, I find the bread is still warm from the oven.

“That pairs quite nicely with Lydia’s herbal tea blend,” she says, gesturing to one of the women behind her. “It’s the only cure for wine-induced headaches.”

My lips curve into a half-smile. “Speaking from experience, are we?”

“Oh, yes.” Lymseia nods, emphasizing the motion. She leans forward, eyes glinting with mischief. “I’d say it’s a mistake I’ve only made once, but that would be a lie.”

I snort, throwing my head back. “I’m shocked to hear this from the Captain of the High King’s Guard,” I say, feigning surprise.

Lymseia holds up both of her palms. “It does come as quite a shock, doesn’t it?”

We laugh and both take another bite of bread.

“How did you become Captain of the High King’s Guard?” I ask, and my tone shifts, becoming more serious. “You’re a Lady.”

“Well, as the second-born, I had more freedom to forge my own path,” she says. “As heir-apparents, Myrdin and Viridian’s courses have been charted since birth. For Myrdin, to one day become Head of House. And for His Highness, to become High King.”

Her words strike a chord within me. I’ve always thought of the noble fae as pretentious, that they couldn’t want for anything. That they led easy lives, free of restrictions.

I’d never considered that such luxury could also come with chains.

Lymseia glances at me before taking another bite of bread. She swallows. “My older sister, Vestella, shares that burden. So, when I came of age, I chose to train as a warrior. My predecessor took me on as her apprentice. When she retired, the High King appointed me as her successor at her recommendation.”

My voice softens. “What happened to her?”

“You need not worry. She’s not dead,” she says, waving me off. “She simply decided she’d served the crown long enough.”

“Oh,” I say, adopting a more light-hearted tone.

Amused, Lymseia raises her brows. “Did you think we served until we died?”

“No,” I lie. Embarrassment heats my cheeks, and I rub the back of my neck. “Not at all.”

Lymseia chuckles. “We’re not barbarians, Miss Thurdred.”

“Of course not,” I shoot out. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s all right.” Lymseia pats my arm. “Truly.” She shoves the last of her bread and jam into her mouth, in a way that strikes me as very unladylike, and sets the used butter knife on top of a pile of dirty dishes.

“I must be off.” She turns back to me and points to my bread. “Enjoy.”

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