Page 75 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

Viridian looks at me and nods, setting his jaw.

“Well then,” Lymseia says, puffing her chest. “Where shall we begin?”

Chapter Eighteen

It’s been days, and the High King still hasn’t returned. No one knows where he’s gone or how long he’ll be away.

Not even Viridian.

He’s simmered every night at dinner, scowling into his meal as if it’s the reason his father vanished without a word.

He does the same now.

“Viridian,” I say. “What is it?”

Though, I already know the answer.

“He’s left me to deal with the council,” Viridian seethes. Raw power ripples through the room. “The Heads of House all look to me for answers, yet I have none. He left me none.”

“I know.”

While the High King’s absence angers him, it only leaves me puzzled. I can’t help but think that his father’s sudden departure has something to do with the answers we’re chasing—the common cause of the East Tower’s rot, the mining sickness, and the draining of the mines.

The look on his face tells me that Viridian knows it, too.

He presses his lips into a fine line, hands gripping his fork and knife. “Leave us,” he orders, without looking at the guards or servants who wait in a line against the wall.

Silently, they do as he commands. They exit, leaving just the two of us. Alone.

“Have you learned anything?” he finally asks me.

In the time since we’ve returned, we’ve been snooping around the castle where we can. For Lymseia and me, talking to servants and trying to listen in on conversations where we can. For him and Myrdin, searching the libraries when they have free time. Though, something tells me that Viridian’s been much too busy with the council to do much else.

“No.” I wish I had. “Have you?”

“No.” A pause. “Myrdin and Lymseia haven’t either.”

I look down at my half-eaten plate. “We will find something.”

We have to.

He sighs. “You’re right. I know that.”

“But?”

“But I can’t help but wonder if there even is anything to be found.”

“You and I both know that isn’t true,” I say. “Not after what we’ve seen.”

The vision of the East Tower flashes in Viridian’s expression. “I know.” Using a napkin, he wipes his mouth. “What should we do?”

“What we’ve been doing,” I say, turning my attention back to my dinner. “We keep pressing for answers and looking where we can. Something will turn up.”

I say the words with confidence that I don’t have.

Because the truth is, I’m just as lost as Viridian. But I don’t have any other choice but to keep looking.

Please, if you’re listening, I pray, to any god that will listen, guide us.

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