Page 80 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

Swiftly, I exit my chamber, skirts swishing behind me while I round the corner. I’m so focused that I nearly topple into Myrdin.

“Oh, I’m—” I stammer, touching my fingers to my forehead. “I’m sorry, Myrdin, I almost crashed into you.”

“No need,” Myrdin assures me. “I should have been paying more attention to where I was going.” His brows scrunch together. “Something troubles you.”

“I’m looking for Viridian,” I say. “Do you know where he is?”

“He’s locked in a room with the High King’s advisers,” he says. The tone of his voice tells me he’s not at all envious of Viridian’s situation.

“I see,” I muse. “All of whom are harassing him with questions he can’t answer.”

“Precisely,” Myrdin sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Each breath seems to be laced with frustration toward his uncle—who, I often forget, is the High King.

“Have they been targeting you, too?” I ask.

“Unfortunately,” he groans. “Though, not nearly as severely as they do to Viridian. I am only Vorr’s nephew, after all.”

My own aggravation brews. Vorr simply up and left, leaving the burden of running the kingdom to Viridian. And to some extent, Myrdin. Without any warning.

Unless the High King is careless, only something grave would have drawn him away so quickly.

Something connected to the stranger from the ball.

“Where are they?” I ask Myrdin, bringing our focus back to Viridian and his father’s advisers.

“The council chamber,” he answers. “Across from the first-floor library.”

I give him my thanks before taking off down the hall.

I glide down the staircase and round the corner, keeping up my pace until I reach the council chamber. The door is shut, and a mix of masculine and feminine voices sound through the wood.

Crossing my arms, I pace in the hallway.

I lose track of how long I trek back and forth before the door opens.

I pause. A slew of well-dressed fae trail out, and I stay in place, waiting for Viridian.

He emerges last, with a worn look hanging at the edge of his features. But his eyes brighten when he sees me.

“Cryssa. It’s—it’s good to see you.”

“Viridian, I have news.”

“News?” He raises his brows. Then, he glances both ways before retreating back into the council chamber. “Come, quickly.”

I duck into the room after him, and he closes the door behind me. There’s a long table in the center, with chairs positioned all around it. Bookcases filled with stacks of parchment line the back wall between leatherbound volumes.

“What have you learned?” he asks, pulling out two of the chairs.

I sit across from him. I trust him not to expose Tiffy, but still choose to keep her anonymous, just in case. “There was a stranger at the last ball. Someone that the servants were afraid to speak of.”

Viridian’s gaze finds mine. I hold his stare.

“Someone it’s rumored that your father feared, too.”

He presses his mouth into a fine line, a pensive look clouding his eyes. “So, this stranger is the key.”

“Yes,” I say. “I know it’s been helpful thus far, but I don’t think we’ll learn anymore from gossip.”

---