Page 6 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

The wind nips at my arms, and I fear I abandoned my cloak in the stables. But I do not turn back.

It kills me to leave Loren there. Kills me to break his heart.

I meant what I said to him. Out of all the people in my life, he’s one of the few that knows me better than anyone. One of the few people that has stood by my side through it all.

It’s because I love him that I must let him go.

Chapter Two

When my feet carry me back through my bedroom window, I wish I had never left home in the first place.

Normally, when I return after a night of bliss with Loren, I wish the night would never end. I often wish I could lay in his arms forever, even if it meant I would never see daylight again.

That is not how I feel tonight.

Tonight, I want morning to come quickly and wash away all that happened within the past few hours.

If only it could.

My worn leather corset falls from my hands, and I don’t care to pick it up. Instead, I turn around and pull the window closed, blocking out the wind.

“Cryssa!” Acantha huffs, sitting up. “You’ll break your neck sneaking out that gods-forsaken window.”

“Never mind that,” I tell her, stripping my dress from my body before replacing it with my nightgown.

“Well, do tell!” Her voice turns giddy. “What has Loren been up to this time? More romantic gestures? Has he asked Father for your hand yet?”

I approach my bed, wrapping my arms around my torso. Loren’s romantic gestures are the farthest thing from my mind.

Acantha’s brows knit together, suddenly ripe with concern. Even though she’s newly nineteen, only a few months younger than me, she wears a motherly expression. “What is it?” She takes my hand, pulling me closer. “He hasn’t done something to hurt you, has he?”

“No, no,” I assure her. “It’s nothing like that, I promise.”

“Then what is it? You can confide in me, Cryssa.”

“I know.” I take a deep breath and put on a brave face. “Tomorrow. I’m too tired to talk tonight.”

Acantha’s hazel eyes search my expression, and by the looks of it, she doesn’t like what she sees. But she nods and lets go of my hand, watching me while I climb into bed.

Under the covers, I turn onto my side and curl my legs toward my chest.

It takes me too long to fall asleep.

It’s been nearly a week since I’ve spoken to Loren. Nearly a week since Theelia’s blessing made it known that the foreign nobleman and I were fated.

I’ve managed to go about my chores without running into either of them, but I can’t shake the dread that lines my stomach, even now. The will of the gods isn’t something to be ignored.

I pray the nobleman didn’t get a good enough look at my face, that he won’t be able to find me. After all, it’s been a week, and he hasn’t come to claim me.

Yet.

Balancing a basket of eggs from the market on my hip, I step past the threshold of our small house. Father sits at the table, chewing on a bite of bread and cheese. Acantha stands across the room from him, tending to the hearth. Not yet spring, the warmth has yet to come.

“Cryssa,” Father says with a smile. He glances down at the basket. “That’s quite a few eggs.”

“A dozen,” I tell him proudly, putting the basket onto the table. “It seems the farmer can be bargained with.”

“If you’re stubborn enough,” Acantha calls, stifling a snort.

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