Page 4 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

Shattering into what feels like a thousand pieces, I cry out, tightening my grip on Loren’s hair. My hands slip from his head and rest on my stomach.

But he’s not finished.

He moves on top of me, hips pinning me to the floor beneath him. Loren’s mouth crashes into mine, and I can taste my sweetness that still lingers on his tongue.

His hands slip under me, palms pressed to my skin while they slide up my back. Holding me close, Loren’s other hand finds its way back to my chest, kneading my now fully exposed breast.

I moan into his lips. If I hadn’t already succumbed to him, I do now.

All I can think about are his hands, the subtle motion of his hips, his lips.

I don’t even register the slight scraping sound the door makes when it opens until Loren abruptly breaks from our kiss, whipping his head around.

A male cough echoes. If it weren’t for the horses’ breathing, the stables would be utterly silent.

Loren shifts his body in front of me, blocking me from the stranger’s view. I scramble to cover myself, haphazardly pulling my dress back up.

Once I’m covered, I peer over Loren’s shoulder to see who disturbed us.

A man that’s much too beautiful to be human stands at the front of the stables, his tall, lean body partially in the doorway. His black hair falls in front of his face, but I can still make out sharp, amber eyes scrutinizing us in the low light. Seeing more of him, I realize he must be of noble birth—his fine clothes are of a much higher quality than anyone in this area of the city could afford. I’d have recognized him if he were a Pelleveron, of that, I’m certain—the Pelleverons have an undeniable arrogance and a perpetual look of displeasure playing at their mouths. Meaning, he can’t hail from this part of the kingdom. He’s from one of the other Courts, then. If he’s here, in Slyfell, then he must seek to gain the favor of Lady Maelyrra Pelleveron—Head of House Pelleveron and all of the Gold Court—no doubt. The thought makes me wrinkle my nose in disgust.

Anyone that willingly associates with the Pelleverons is probably just as haughty as they are. Though, for noble fae, that’s all too common.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d assume you were trespassing.” The nobleman’s voice is rich and smooth, like that of a delicacy laced with poison.

Loren’s response is curt. Unyielding. “Then we’ll leave.”

Taking my hand, he picks up my worn-out corset and helps me to my feet.

When he sees me, the nobleman’s eyes widen ever so slightly. Drawn to him, I can’t help but meet his gaze.

Warmth thrums in my chest, a strange, buzzing sensation gripping me. A burnt-orange light surrounds the nobleman, as if he were shining from the inside out. Judging by the look of surprise taking hold of his chiseled features, he feels the buzzing, too.

Loren turns to me, his face void of color.

“Cryssa,” he whispers, voice heavy with dread.

Lifting my hands, I look down at my palms.

The same burnt-orange light is coming from within me.

My stomach constricts with nausea, horror clenching my abdomen.

Mouth agape, I look back at the nobleman. As the light surrounding him fades, mine does too. In perfect sync.

The muscles in his jaw flex. And the undeniable truth of what we just witnessed settles into both of us. The gods seldom interfere with our world, more content to watch from afar. And when they do, it is only when absolutely necessary. As the Goddess of Fate, a blessing from Theelia signals one of the two strongest forces that can alter one’s fate: lover or killer. Even for the fae, being blessed by Theelia is rare. For humans… it is almost unheard of.

The will of Theelia is clear, and one way or another, our destinies are inextricably intertwined.

“The Lady of Fate has spoken,” the nobleman says, voice cold, his amber gaze still locked on me. He’s composed himself, keeping his shock at bay. “The little fawn lost in the stables is mine.”

No.

My breath is caught in my throat. I choke on it.

No, no, no. Not him. Not a noble fae.

It’s not until Loren cups my elbow that I realize I’m shaking. He steps closer to me as he does, steadying me.

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