Page 4 of A Shattered Kingdom of Steel

“You know how important it is that the people feel heard,” Cryssa adds, fire burning in her gaze. “The curse may be broken, but humans, our people, are uneasy. They don’t know us, or how we’ll rule.”

“Right,” Viridian agrees. “We’ve convinced the council to back this initiative. Now, more than ever, we need stability.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” I tell them. “You know I’ll always defend your command.”

Not that I’ve ever been one for politics. Making decisions that impact the lives of many on a much larger scale, navigating unclear, interpersonal matters…. It’s never been something I’ve been good at. If anything, I’ve made it my mission to steer clear of politics.

Fighting isn’t delicate the way politics are. There’s no need to decipher people and try to read between the lines, or to understand what’s been left unsaid. No, in combat, what you see is what you get. A skilled warrior can determine their opponent’s strengths and weaknesses just by looking at them. With politics, one can never tell what’s true and what’s not. Who is a threat, and who is an ally.

Cryssa and Viridian look at each other and then back at me expectantly.

Placing my hands on my hips, I straighten my back. Wariness settles into the back of my mind, and something in the way they’re looking at me tells me I won’t like what’s about to come next.

“So, what do you need me for?” I ask.

“We’d like you to be our representative in the Steel Court,” Viridian says slowly, as if to brace himself for my response.

I stare at him blankly. “What?”

“We’d like you to act on our behalf.” Viridian searches my expression. “It would require you to return to Illnamoor.” He swallows, before taking a breath. “To your mother’s Court.”

“You…” My voice trails off, and I swear my hands start to shake. With anger or panic, I can’t tell which. “You can’t be serious.”

“We’re serious, Lymseia,” Cryssa says, her voice soft. “We wouldn’t have come to you if we weren’t.”

I shake my head, my chest rising and falling with my quickening breaths. “Choose someone else,” I demand. “Anyone but me.”

Viridian exhales, as if he already knew this was coming. “There’s no one else. Your mother is Head of House. Her loyalties are to her Court, above all, as they should be. The very nature of her position means that we cannot rely on her to prioritize the crown’s goals above her own. And your sister…” He pauses. “I can’t say I know Vestella well enough.”

“Fine, not her then.” I frown. “There must be someone else.”

“Lymseia,” Viridian says, as though to beg me to reconsider. “Trust me, I know you don’t want this. You must believe that we wouldn’t have come to you if we had any other choice.”

Fighting the anxiety that grips my chest, I force myself to calm down. He’s right. I know that he’s right. I’m the clear choice. The best option. Still, the thought of returning to my mother’s Court has discomfort twisting in my abdomen. I’ve never felt at home there. Here, at High Keep, among the High King’s Guard, was the first place that I ever felt like I truly belonged.

And now Viridian wants me to leave.

“When would I be expected to depart?” I ask, reining in my emotions.

Viridian’s jaw tightens. “As soon as possible.”

I lower my voice. “How long would I be gone?”

“We don’t know,” Viridian admits. “However long it takes to reassure the human communities that the crown will not abandon them.”

“And however long it takes for the noble fae to accept our way of doing things,” Cryssa adds, a bitter edge to her tone. As a demi-fae that was raised human, Cryssa knows all too well what little regard most noble fae have for humans. It will take time to shift how the Courts, and the kingdom as a whole, is run.

The realization grips my stomach.

They want me to be away from High Keep indefinitely.

“But I have responsibilities here. You can’t just send me away,” I protest, crossing my arms. “I’m the Captain of the High King’s Guard.”

“We’ve granted you a higher position,” Viridian tells me, carefully observing my expression. “As a diplomat.”

“Then who will take my place?” I ask, pressing my palm to my brow. “You can’t pick just anyone.”

“We need someone we can trust. We need you, Lymseia,” Viridian pleads, his amber eyes genuine. “If you accept this assignment, then you will be solely responsible for choosing your successor. And we will appoint them without question. Deal?”

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