Page 60 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

“Yes,” she groans. “We’ll tell anyone asking where you are that you’re out frolicking on a romantic getaway north of Redbourne. All right?”

“Very well.” Viridian nods, looking as if he were far from here.

Myrdin places a hand on Viridian’s shoulder. “Find out what’s happening. We’ll be here when you need us.”

“Will do.” Viridian dips his head. “Thank you. Both of you.”

“You can thank me by staying out of trouble,” Lymseia says, putting her hands on her hips.

Viridian only grins, rolling his eyes.

Chapter Fifteen

Imeet Viridian in the royal stables. He wears a dark cloak with the hood pulled up over his head.

Lifting the hood of my own cloak over my head, I suppress the memories it raises. I don’t want to think about the stables back home in Slyfell. Or how far I’ve fallen.

He rests his hand on a midnight stallion, holding the reins. It only takes me a moment to remember the horse’s name—Nightfoot. Seeing him again for the first time in weeks, I remember how beautiful Nightfoot is, but I keep that to myself.

When Viridian sees me, he steps forward, hand outstretched.

I approach slowly, looking at it. “Which horse will I take?”

He pats Nightfoot’s ebony coat. “This one.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll also ride this one.”

I swallow. “I can ride alone.”

“Can you?” Viridian arches a brow. “You know how to ride?”

I simmer, turning my face.

“That’s what I thought,” he says. Is that triumph I hear? Perhaps I’m imagining it. Either way, it makes my face hot with anger. “We’ll ride together.”

I move to mount the horse, ignoring his outstretched hand.

I secure my foot in the stirrup and attempt to swing my leg over the horse. My dress limits my movement, my skirts bunching. I try to lift my leg again, but all I end up doing is fighting with the fabric.

Strong hands grip my rear and lift me up onto the saddle. Once I’m up, I swing my leg over the horse. My skirts gather around my knees, but I don’t care if it’s unladylike.

Viridian gets up behind me and sits so his chest is pressed to my back.

“I didn’t need help.” I scowl, even though he can’t see my face.

“You could have fooled me,” he says, sarcasm coloring his tone.

“I had it under control.”

“Your pride will recover, I’m sure.”

I clutch the saddle and deny him the pleasure of a response. But Viridian only chuckles and urges Nightfoot forward, applying slight pressure with his legs as he does.

“What is so amusing?” I ask, letting my aggravation show.

“You.”

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