Page 33 of On Broken Bonds

Surprisingly, after Soryn’s pronouncement, the throne room erupts in cheers. The sound crashes over me all at once, deafening after the sharp humiliation of the gods’ laughter. Applause breaks out from every direction, the viewers above, behind, and around us clapping wildly enough to make the very walls seem to tremble.

For a moment, I simply stand there, overwhelmed. I just can’t make sense of it. Surely they are not cheering for us.

My first thought is that they’re entertained, delighted by the obvious tension, by the cruelty of pairing cursed Thorian with someone so clearly unequipped for this competition. Perhaps they find it amusing, the thought of watching yet another one of his partners die spectacularly.

The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

And yet, stubbornly, foolishly, I force myself to consider another possibility. Perhaps they’re cheering for the spectacle of the unexpected. For the absurdity of seeing a woman like me standing here at all. Perhaps a few of them even admire the audacity it took to step forward.

I cling to that thought, however fragile.

Before I can make any further sense of it, movement erupts around us as the other teams begin shifting and jostling into motion. The sudden chaos sends my thoughts spinning all over again.

Is there more Thorian hasn’t told me? How much of what I thought I understood has been a lie of omission?

Then his hand closes firmly around my arm. The touch startles me.

Without a word, he begins steering me through the crush of bodies, pulling me away from the center of the room as I catch sight of Fenric moving toward us, his expression intent, as though he means to say something. But the look on Thorian’s face stops him short.

A fresh knot tightens in my stomach.

Whatever Thorian is about to say, I have the sinking feeling I am not going to like it.

Leading me out of the room, Thorian’s voice is low and soft in my ear. “We need to talk.”

Thorian doesn’t explain further. His hand remains firm at my arm as he guides me from the throne room and down a maze of gleaming corridors, his long strides forcing me to hurry to keep pace. We pass towering windows and polished marble columns, servants flattening themselves against the walls to let us pass, but he says nothing.

When he finally pushes open a pair of gilded doors and leads me out onto a balcony, the questions already rising to my lips vanish. The city stretches endlessly before me, and for one breathless moment, everything else falls away.

Eryndor glows beneath the deepening dusk, thousands of warm orange lights flickering in windows like captured stars. Wide stone streets cut neat paths through the city, crowded with carriages that look no larger than toys from this height. People move in steady streams along the walkways below, their voices drifting faintly upward in a soft, distant hum.

Beyond the clustered buildings, I can make out taller structures of brick and polished stone reaching toward the darkening sky. A great mill turns slowly in the distance, its massive wheel catching the last traces of light as it spins. Smoke rises from dozens of chimneys, curling into the evening air.

It is overwhelming. Beautiful. Its sheer vastness makes me feel very small.

Then I remember why we’re here. The cheers. The laughter. The gods’ cruel revelations.

My stomach tightens, and I force my attention away from the view and back to Thorian.

He’s watching me, his dark expression unreadable, and a fresh wave of unease moves through me. Whatever he’s brought me out here to say, I have the sinking feeling I’m not going to like it.

“Well, how do you feel?” Thorian asks, and I blink, struggling to decide exactly how I feel.

The way he looks at me is guarded, like usual, but also nearly combative, like he’s dropping back on his heels and raising his fists, getting ready for a fight. I realize he’d probably expected me to start talking as soon as we came out here.

From his perspective, he probably imagined I would rip into him once we got to a private spot, away from the jeering eyes of those betting on our failure. The thought of me berating him makes laughter explode from my lips. I’m desperate, and he’s the only one willing to help me. Why would I be mad at him?

“Are you…laughing?” he asks, his voice a bit uncertain. The question comes out with the same tenor as Are you mad?

My laughter dies, and my smile fades. Right. Laughing is really not the thing I should be doing right now.

“Am I happy about the fact that you didn’t tell me something so important?” I ask, stepping to the edge of the balcony and laying my hands on the cool stone, returning my gaze to the city below. “Of course not. And it’s not the greatest news in the world to learn of your previous partners. To have seen their gruesome deaths. But in the end, it doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t?” Thorian echoes, coming to my side, his eyes narrowed, voice suspicious.

“No.” When I turn to him, tilting my head and catching his eye, I see the expression of a man who is always waiting for the other shoe to drop. “We’re still working together, aren’t we?”

His jaw tenses, his eyes flicking out toward the view before returning to mine. “If you want.”