Page 26 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

But Viridian doesn’t release his iron-grip on my hand.

“If you ever try to cross me again,” he hisses, amber eyes ablaze, “I will personally see to it that your lover pays the price. Understand?”

I clench my jaw, hardening my expression. Anger swirls in my chest, and I don’t care if it shows.

“Coward. I hate you.” Venom laces each of my syllables.

But Viridian doesn’t even flinch. “Do you understand me, Little Fawn?”

Curling my lip, I say nothing, and my silence makes my disdain for him all the more clear. My nostrils flare with the force of my loathing, barely able to keep myself from screaming in his face.

“I said, do you understand me?” His face hardens even more than I thought possible, amber eyes looking as if they could slice right through my flesh. “I won’t ask again.”

It takes everything in me not to continue fighting, but I can’t risk pushing him too far. If I step out of line again, he’ll hurt Loren to punish me. I can’t let that happen.

“Yes,” I spit. “I understand.”

“Good.” He releases me and backs away. The guards relax, lowering their weapons.

Gesturing to me, he tells them, “See to it she makes it back to her quarters without any more trouble.”

The two closest guards take me by the arms. I tug and wriggle against them, but their hold on me is too strong.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Viridian says, the spite in his voice more than palpable.

“What?” I croak, looking back at him over my shoulder.

“Since you can’t be trusted not to mishandle your silverware, you’ll be dining with me from now on. Every night.”

Anger sets my cheeks on fire.

“Fine.” I don’t need to see myself to know that my eyes shoot poison his way.

“Good.” Viridian glowers back at me. His tone matches mine.

When the guards pull me away, I let him have the last word.

Because I vow to be so insufferable, that he regrets his decision to spend any more time with me.

Chapter Six

Afew days later, a wooden box sits outside my chamber door. The past few nights Viridian and I have dined together have been tensely silent, as though neither of us knows what to say to each other. Well, I can think of multiple things—only, anything I have to say to him right now would most likely end in an argument. Perhaps he feels the same.

I pick up the box and bring it into my room. Sitting on the bed, I place it on my lap and open it. Inside, I see an array of art supplies—a collection of drawing pencils, charcoal sticks, a small cloth to wipe my hands with after smudging the charcoal, and a large sketchbook lying in the center.

Speechless, I close the box and pull it closer to my torso. Even after that stunt I pulled with the butter knife, Viridian still brought me the sketchbook I asked for. And so much more.

My chest fills with warmth. Though I immediately furrow my brows.

The sketchbook doesn’t undo everything he’s done. How could it?

I almost consider not using it, solely because it’s a gift from the male I despise. The male holding me here against my will. Forcing me into a life I will never want.

But I take the sketchbook and the charcoal sticks out. Spite isn’t a good enough reason to let them go to waste.

At least, that’s what I tell myself.

I make my way from my chambers and find myself outside in the courtyard. A circular hallway lines the area, with open arches that lead back into the castle. The plant-growth here is well-kept and tamed. Nothing like the wildflowers that grow in the meadow behind our house in the summertime. Every year since we were children, Acantha and I would spend hours laying in the grass. We would make flower crowns and stare up at the clouds, while pointing out what we see in them.

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