Page 19 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

“No,” I assure him, over emphasizing my enthusiasm to hide my disappointment. “Not at all.”

Myrdin flashes me a warm smile. Out of everyone here, I think I like him the most. He has this boyish charm about him that makes him seem like the younger brother I never had.

“I’ll take my leave.” He bows his head, clutching his stack of papers to his chest. “I bid you good evening.”

Myrdin departs, busying himself with his council documents. Closing the door behind me, I cross the threshold into my chamber and rest my body against it, leaning my head back.

I’ve been here for a day, and I’ve made no progress in formulating an escape plan.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I fight the burning lump growing in the back of my throat. My chest constricts, stomach swimming with anguish.

Tears sting my eyes. This will be the second time I’ve cried in the span of a few days.

I swallow to keep them at bay.

This isn’t me. I’m not the girl who cries at the hint of distress. No, I’m the girl who acts. The girl who fights back. The girl who does something to change her situation. That’s the girl my father raised me to be.

If only Father was here. He’d know what to do.

Still, tears fall and run down my cheeks.

And I let them.

Staggering away from the door, I sink to my knees.

Even if I do manage to find Loren, I don’t know what’s become of him. He could be hurt. Bound and gagged. Maybe they’ve tortured him.

Or worse, he could be dead.

I banish the horde of unkind thoughts. I can’t let myself drown in them. If I do, there’ll be no hope for either of us.

I sit in silence for a while, making no move to wipe away the tears or clean myself up.

There’s a hard knock at my door. I wait a moment, and the knock sounds again, harder still, as if the person outside is rapidly growing impatient.

I have half a mind to ignore it, but the third knock has me up and on my feet. The idea of shouting profanities at whoever is so intent to disrupt my solitude becomes more appealing by the second.

Can’t a girl cry in peace?

When I open it, the Crown Prince stands in the hall, chin raised. The profanities I’d been looking forward to spewing vanish, and my mouth feels like it’s been latched shut. I swear I see the hard lines of his face soften ever so slightly, but it must be a trick of the light.

“Good evening.” His voice is cordial but lacks true sincerity. Or at least, to me, it does. “Dine with me tonight.”

I can tell that’s not a request. The annoyance it stirs within me is enough to free my tongue from whatever stupor has frozen it. He brought me to High Keep against my will. He’s the reason Loren has been arrested. And now he’s here, asking—no, commanding—me to dine with him, as if none of that happened.

“Or what?” I say, my voice carrying the weight of my challenge. “I don’t eat at all?”

“Yes.” Viridian’s icy tone is much lower than I’d like. His quiet temper is unsettling, but I would die before I let him see that.

“I’d rather starve than share your company.” Does he honestly expect me to play nice with him, while Loren rots in a prison cell somewhere? “And if you think otherwise, then you’re delusional.”

“If that’s how it’s going to be, then fine.” Viridian’s eyes narrow, amber storms raging within them. “You can starve, for all I care.”

My brows furrow, chest rising and falling with my angry breaths.

He spins on his heels, his back facing me now. With his hands behind him, one clasped firmly around his wrist, he looks at the guards.

“Stand guard. I want to know the moment she changes her mind.”

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