Page 42 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

“Appearances,” I mutter. “To hell with appearances.”

“I know you don’t want this,” he says. “You’ve made that quite clear. It’s not my choice, either.”

“Oh, really?” I taunt, recalling what the guards told me the day they arrived at our door to take me away. “Supposedly I was hand-picked to be your bride. Hand-picked by you.”

There’s more venom in my voice than I intended. Viridian flinches.

“The gods are to blame for our arrangement.” His icy tone matches mine. “Not me.”

“You’re the Crown Prince. No one can force you to do anything.”

“Is that so?” That sets his eyes ablaze. “Let me tell you something, Little Fawn. Even I bow to the High King. You’d do well to remember that.”

I glower at him, silently fuming. He’s the only male in the realm who can get under my skin this way. This quickly.

“For someone who supposedly doesn’t want me to hate him,” I say, refusing to let him have the last word, “you’re doing a poor job of changing that.”

Viridian’s voice goes cold and quiet. “There will be a tutor to instruct you. It seems that you have much to learn about conducting yourself like a lady. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He brushes past me, and stalks back toward the castle, shoulders wound tight.

My feet seem fixed to the ground. I shake my head with frustration, balling my hands into fists.

“Argh!” I groan.

Guilt lines my stomach. I let my temper get the better of me.

And for the first time since I arrived, I feel like I ruined something.

So be it.

Viridian and I will never marry. So why do I care if I’ve ruined things between us?

Ihave my first lesson with the tutor this afternoon. I pass Viridian on the way to the ballroom, but he pretends not to see me.

Coward.

I tell myself that it’s better this way. Better to be truthful with him, than let him believe there may be a future for us.

But that thought doesn’t sit right with me.

I keep mulling over how he looked at me earlier. How he flinched when I lashed out at him.

And it makes me wonder if anyone has ever treated him right.

If anyone has shown him love. Genuine, unconditional love.

What am I saying?

What do I care if Viridian’s been given love or affection? Since when did I care about him at all?

I don’t.

I don’t care about him. I hate him.

When I arrive, the tutor is already there, waiting. She’s fae, that’s for sure. Her pointed ears emerge through silky black hair that’s wound into a tight bun at the base of her head, hunter-green eyes studying me the moment I cross the threshold. Her dark, violet dress is fitted to her too slim figure, and the high neckline makes her seem taller than she already is. She holds her hands in front of her, calm and collected. The way a lady should be.

Not brash and unruly like me.

“Good afternoon, Miss Thurdred.” The tutor’s voice is lower than I expect. Rigid, with a dry quality to it. She must be older than she appears. “I am Nefine Hrudarrk. I have heard that you are quite the force to be reckoned with.”

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