Page 93 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

The servant clears his throat. He looks at me, before opening his mouth.

“She’s here, as you requested.”

Loren’s shoulders rise, and he whirls around. The threat of violence that permeates his demeanor loosens. His face is dirty, and his light brown hair is longer than it was the last time I saw him, curls wild and unruly. My focus falls to his collarbones, at the black and blue bruises poking out from underneath his tattered shirt. Immediately, his green eyes land on me. Relief and love pool in them, and the way he looks at me makes me feel worse than I already do.

So much worse.

Because I know I’m not looking at him the same way.

My heart is torn in two. Half lies in the cell with Loren, and the other…

The other half is sworn to the male that’s holding him behind bars.

“Cryssa,” Loren breathes, like all he’s ever wanted is to see me again. He looks past me, at Viridian, and his eyes shoot daggers his way. “Are you all right? I’ve been so worried since—” He swallows, as if to catch himself before he says too much.

My throat feels as if someone has their hand wrapped around it.

“Cryssa?” Loren asks, swiftly crossing his cell to the bars. “Talk to me.”

“Yes,” I choke out. Closing my eyes, I slow my breaths. “I’m fine.”

“Fine?” Loren’s voice sharpens. “You don’t look fine.” Then he openly glares at Viridian. “What have you done to her?”

“I assure you,” Viridian begins, his voice cold. “I have done nothing but care for her.”

Loren laughs, and it’s a bitter sound. “As if I’d believe that.”

Viridian’s jaw ticks.

“It’s true,” I say, finding my voice. “I want for nothing.”

Viridian’s face hardens to stone, and more than anything, I want to take it back and say something better instead. Something that will chip away at the stone, until I get my Viridian back. Just Viridian, the real Viridian. Not the Crown Prince.

“That’s a lie,” Loren says, voice softening. “And you know it.”

He’s right. That is a lie.

“You want your freedom,” Loren continues. “You want to go home. With me.” The last sentence is a jab, practically aimed at Viridian’s throat.

I turn my face from the cell.

Of course I want my freedom. How could I not? But now, even that is so much more complicated than it once was.

“You wanted to see me?” I ask.

“Of course I did,” Loren says. “I’ve thought of you every day, for all these weeks. Wondering where you are, if you’re all right. What’s happening to you.” A pause. “I’ve been worried sick about you, Cryssa.”

I can hear the sincerity in his voice. To any other woman, the emotion in Loren’s voice would have them swooning. But not me.

Not anymore.

I would ask myself why I don’t feel as I once did.

But I already know the answer to that question.

I glance at Viridian before I respond.

“Oh.”

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