Page 50 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

“You forget, Little Fawn, that this is all a game.” With Virdian’s hand on my waist, we glide across the floor. “We must play our cards right. I will answer your questions. All in due time.”

He flashes me a polite smile, but it does little to hide the tension that still gathers in his jaw. Though it’s not anger—that much I can tell.

It’s much closer to fear or worry.

Concern pangs in my chest. For a moment, I forget my hatred for the male before me.

Instead, I almost want to wrap my arms around him. To hold him close.

He takes an abrupt step back. I do the same, banishing the thought from my mind.

What’s wrong with me?

A momentary lapse of judgment is all. And it won’t happen again.

I’ll make sure of it.

Viridian bows to me, and then I curtsy before him. I know what Nefine would say if she were here. I should stay at Viridian’s side tonight.

That is what people will expect of me.

But I don’t care.

I wait for him to leave the dance floor, and when he does, I march into the sea of guests.

Waitstaff circulate with goblets of wine. As one passes me, I grab a goblet and immediately bring it to my lips.

Maybe the drink will wash this night from my memory. All I know is that I need to get away from Viridian.

I take several, greedy gulps, draining my goblet. Placing the empty goblet onto the tray carried by another servant, I take a deep breath.

I only make it a few steps closer to the exit before the dark liquid muddles my thoughts.

That’s strange. Normally, wine doesn’t hit me this quickly.

My head feels heavy, and I feel myself following in the direction it leads, swaying like I’m standing on a ship. A thick fog takes hold of my mind, and I find myself acting on pure instinct—however little of it remains.

I stumble my way through the throng of partygoers and into the hallway just outside the ballroom. My legs wobble, and the ceiling seems to elevate.

People I don’t recognize—servants, I think—flock to me.

“Miss! Are you alright?”

I must really look unwell—two faces loom before mine, their mouths tight with concern. Though, they look awfully similar. Brothers, perhaps?

“Miss, can you hear me? Miss?”

Two hands wave in front of my face. Or perhaps it’s the same hand? I can’t tell.

“What is the meaning of this?”

The servants merge when he drops into a bow. “Your Highness.”

Viridian’s—at least I think it’s his—angry voice sounds dulled, even though he’s not far from me. “I told you that she wasn’t to be served the wine, did I not?”

The servant gushes his apologies, though I can’t make out the words. Perhaps I’m not paying attention. I’m not paying attention, am I? Or is it the wine?

“Viridian, please,” I swat at him. “I’m a grown woman. I can have wine if I so choose.”

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