Page 69 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

I step in after him and look around. The room is cozy—much too cozy for my liking. A full-sized bed adorned with woolen blankets sits in the center of the room, with rickety wooden bedside tables on either side. A similar-looking wardrobe leans against the far wall—quite literally leans—and a small cheval mirror stands in the far corner. On the floor is a faded knit rug.

“Yes,” I say, drawing out the word. “There’s only one bed.”

“You take the bed,” Viridian says decisively. As if sleeping next to me is the last thing he’d ever do. Am I so horrible that he can’t stand to be close to me?

“No, you take the bed,” I counter. I know it shouldn’t bother me, but his desire to stay as far away from me as possible bruises my ego. “Unlike you, I’ll be perfectly fine on the floor.”

“That’s a lie,” he retorts, “and you know it. You’re taking the bed, and that’s final.”

“Ugh,” I groan. “You arrogant male. Already making decisions for me?”

“Arrogant?” Viridian echoes, voice raising in volume. “Excuse me for having manners, unlike you.”

“Ah yes, the uncivilized human,” I drawl, throwing my hands up. My voice goes shrill. “I’m aware.”

“That’s—that’s not—”

“I don’t care.” My words are tired and lack their usual strength.

Viridian is silent for a moment. So am I.

“I only want you to be comfortable, Cryssa,” he says at last. “After everything I’ve done to you… It only seems fair.”

That softens my brutish exterior. “I appreciate that.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “But it’s your first time away from High Keep, and I—I want you to be comfortable, too.”

He steps closer to me. Intrigue plays at his lips. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” I say, avoiding his gaze. I can feel his stare, hot on my cheeks. “Why don’t we share?”

“Share?” he prompts. The pitch of his voice curves up at the end, as if he knows what I’m trying to say, yet still asks the question anyway.

“The bed,” I stammer, in some attempt to seem more confident than I actually am. “We can share. I’ll stay on my side, and you’ll stay on yours. It’ll only be for tonight.”

I expect him to fight me, to stand his ground and insist that he sleep on the floor.

But he doesn’t.

“Very well,” he agrees. “We’ll share the bed.”

“Then it’s settled,” I say. Jitters consume my stomach, as if summoned from thin air.

Turning my back to him, I remove my cloak and hang it on one of the hooks by the door. At my side, Viridian does the same.

I linger by the hook, while he moves to the bed. The wood creaks under his weight.

When I turn around, my breath catches in my throat.

Viridian lays with his hands behind his head. His shirt is untucked, the thin, white fabric doing little to hide his chiseled physique. His leather pants hang sinfully low on his hips. Even though his shaggy black hair has fallen over his eyes, I can still feel his white-hot stare on my body.

He averts his gaze once he notices me looking.

How can he be so effortlessly beautiful?

Forcing myself to regulate my breathing, I cross the distance to the bed and sit. The cheap mattress gives way under me when I do. I fiddle with the blankets, purely to give my hands something to do, and then blow out the candle at my bedside. My eyes adjust to the darkness, and we lay there, in silence, for what feels like ages.

“I’m sorry,” I say suddenly, turning my head to him. “For earlier. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you.”

Understanding washes over his face. “It’s all right. I understand.”

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