Page 105 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

Chapter Twenty-Seven

In the library, Viridian retrieves a piece of parchment, a quill, and ink.

“Sit,” he says, gesturing to one of the tables.

I do, and he pulls out the chair next to mine. Now that he’s seated, he dips the quill in ink and hovers it over the parchment.

I open my mouth to speak but close it not even a moment later. Where do I begin? So much has happened since I left home. So much has changed.

I’ve changed.

“Speak to me,” he says, looking my way, “as if you were speaking to your father.”

I glance up in thought. “Hello, Father. It’s me, Cryssa.”

Viridian touches the quill to the parchment. It makes scratching sounds as he drags it across, using it to draw round, swooping shapes. When he’s finished, he looks up at me.

I continue. “I have thought of you and Acantha every day, and I know you must be worried about me. I’m all right. I miss you both so, so much.” I pause, briefly closing my eyes. “I hope you are well.”

I wait for Viridian to write it down, and then go on. “I’ve heard more miners have fallen ill. Father, I pray that you are not one of them. How are things at home? Are Catia and Jemetha well? I love you. From, Cryssa.”

Viridian copies my words down onto the parchment. Once he’s done, his brows stitch together and he returns the quill to the ink.

“Who are Catia and Jemetha?” he asks.

I hesitate. “Loren’s mother and sister.”

“Ah,” he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “I see.”

We’re both silent for a moment.

“Father can only read a little,” I say, anxious to change the subject. “How will he know what I’ve said?”

“I’ll instruct the messenger delivering it to read it aloud to him,” he answers, sounding as if he were worlds away.

I nod. But the silence returns. No matter how much I wish it wouldn’t.

“You miss it, don’t you.” Viridian says quietly, staring down at the table. It’s a statement. Not a question. “Home.”

“Yes,” I murmur, looking away from him. Dread lines my stomach. I know where this is going.

“Have you thought about returning?”

“Yes.” I admit. It feels pointless to deny it. “I’ve thought about it.”

He goes quiet, chewing on his bottom lip.

“And you—” he stops, as if he doesn’t want to say what comes next. But he does anyway. “You miss being with him.”

I instantly know he’s referring to Loren.

This again?

“Viridian, please.” How many times will we go over this?

“It’s all right, Cryssa.” He sounds defeated. “I can handle the truth. You don’t need to spare me.”

I press my lips together.

---