Page 66 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

Viridian is at least one hundred years old.

Fae lifespans.

I knew the fae lived for ages, practically immortal unless they were killed, but knowing how old Viridian is lets me see it in a whole new light.

I ask, “Why’s it been so long?”

The barkeep shrugs. “No one knows. The nobles don’t talk about it. We only have theories.”

“Theories?” I furrow my brows. “What kind of theories?”

He waits. Then I sigh, handing over another silver coin.

“They’re all pure speculation. Some say the High King was jealous of the male guests spending too much time with the High Queen and vowed to keep her all to himself. Others think it’s a political statement.”

“What do you think?” I ask.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care. What the nobles do and don’t do is none of my business.”

One of the men at the bar raises his tankard. “Another!”

The barkeep dips his head to me. “That’s all I’ve got.”

“Thanks,” I say, offering him a polite smile. I tie Viridian’s coin purse shut and clutch it tightly with my fist.

I lift my weight from the counter and turn to leave.

“You’re a pretty one, aren’t you?” a voice slurs. There’s a hard grip on my arm.

“Let me go.” My voice sharpens.

“Easy there, sweetheart,” the drunk man says between sips. “I’m only trying to compliment you.”

“Well, I don’t want your compliments.” I wriggle against his grasp. For a drunk, it’s iron tight.

“She’s feisty, too,” another adds, leering at me. “They’re fun when they’ve got some fire in ‘em.”

“I said, let go of me,” I repeat, firmer this time.

The drunk man doesn’t release me. He would if he knew what was good for him.

Instead, he laughs.

“We could have some fun with this one,” he snickers to his companion.

“Oh, I reckon we’d go for hours.” The other smiles, revealing a row of crooked teeth. “Wouldn’t we, sweetheart?”

My mouth twists in disgust. I raise my free hand, balling it into a fist.

“Release her.” The command rumbles behind me.

The men’s drunken laughter goes silent.

“Who do you think you are?” The one holding my arm stands on wobbly legs.

“It doesn’t matter who I am,” Viridian says, his voice deathly calm. “You’re going to let her go. Now.”

“You listen here—”

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