Page 39 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

I haven’t left my room much, either. Not like he gave me much of a choice. True to his word, one of the guards posted outside my bedchamber locks the door every night, right after sunset. Though even if I could, I wouldn’t dare to be caught sneaking around again.

Caught by him.

Maybe it’s my wounded pride.

Or maybe I’m losing hope that I can free Loren and escape this gods-forsaken place at all.

I sit at my vanity table, bent over a drawing. This one is of Father. He sits on the floor in front of the hearth in our house, the way he does in the winter after a long, cold day in the gold mines. There’s dirt on his nose and in his hair, but his eyes are warm and alight with joy. I could stare at it for hours.

But the knock at my door pulls me away, and I rise to answer it.

“Good morning,” Viridian says awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. He wears an untucked, loose-fitting white shirt, the V-neck collar showing off part of his chiseled collarbones. His black pants hang low on his hips, and it takes more strength than I’d like to admit not to look.

“Good morning.” I force myself to look up at his face. Though, even still, I’m tempted to stare. His strong jawline, aquiline nose, high cheekbones…

Then I remember my anger. My loathing. The locks on my chamber door, for gods’ sake.

Enough of that.

“You…” Viridian’s voice trails off, amber gaze fixed to my lips. “You have charcoal on your face.”

I laugh, though it’s a humorless sound. “Typical.”

I pull my sleeve down to hold it in place before moving my arm up to rub away the charcoal.

“Let me,” Viridian says softly. He touches his thumb to his tongue and reaches for my face. As he does, he watches me and moves slowly, as if he expects me to turn away.

But I don’t.

This male stole me from my home, from my family, and is holding me captive.

Why don’t I turn away?

Looking down at me, staring into my eyes, Viridian brushes his thumb back and forth across my cheek to wipe away the black smudges.

When he’s done, his hand lingers on my face for a moment. His touch sends electricity rippling through my skin. I feel captivated by him, drawn to his proximity. Then he pulls away, his eyes still locked with mine. It makes me wonder if he feels it, too.

“There,” he says at last. “It’s gone now.”

“Thank you,” I tell him. He’s close enough that I can feel the warmth of his body. I could reach out and touch him, if I wanted to. Could run my hands along his lean, muscled abdomen. Could bring my hand lower, beneath the waistband of his pants.

You are in love with another man, I remind myself.

Though, I’m not even sure of that anymore.

Still, I shouldn’t be having these thoughts about someone other than Loren while he’s imprisoned. Especially not about someone I despise. The one responsible for everything Loren and I have had to endure.

“You’re welcome.” Viridian’s deep voice rumbles in his throat. He lowers his hands, though his fingers curl out, as if to take mine.

“Is there something you need?” I ask. The hardness returns to my voice.

“Something I need?” he echoes, looking lost.

“Yes. You came to see me, didn’t you?”

“Oh. Yes.” He nods, like he suddenly remembers. “It seems that we weren’t—we didn’t get off on the right foot.” He swallows, glancing away from me. “I’d like to start again.”

“Start again?” I hold back a snort. To truly start again, he’d need to take me home to Slyfell. But that will never happen.

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