25. Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Five
F or the next few days, Viridian avoids me. He doesn’t even come to dinner.
I make it my mission to speak to him, but somehow, he continues to evade me.
Frustrated, I march through the halls, aiming for my bedchamber. I reach the top of the stairs, when Lymseia comes in my direction.
“Cryssa,” she says, her expression tight.
“What is it?” Concern prickles the skin on my arms.
“The High King has returned. He wants to see you and Viridian in the throne room at once.”
My stomach falls. Anxiety wraps its cold fist around my insides.
“Then I’ll head there at once,” I tell her, my mouth dry.
She nods. “I’ll escort you.”
Something in her eyes tells me she doesn’t have much of a choice in the matter.
We’re silent as we descend the staircase and turn the corner toward the throne room. I see Viridian first, standing some distance away from the cracked bronze throne, where Vorr sits.
The High King leans back, hands gripping the arms of the throne so tightly that if not for his gloves, I’m sure his knuckles would go white.
The tension between the two fae males is palpable, as though I could slice through it with a dagger.
Lymseia’s feet stay planted outside the set of double doors when I enter.
I approach, stopping when I’m in line with Viridian, and bow.
“Your Majesty.” I rise from my curtsy. “I’m glad to see that you’ve returned.”
Vorr forces a polite smile. “Thank you, Miss Thurdred.” His eyes move to Viridian. “If only my son shared your sentiment.”
Deathly quiet, Viridian’s voice comes out as a low snarl. “Where were you?”
“That is none of your concern.” Vorr’s words are curt .
“No?” Viridian cocks his head. Rage bubbles just beneath the surface, brimming in his expression. “Then why were your advisors left in the dark with me? You left with no warning.”
“Do not question me.” Vorr’s voice goes cold.
Viridian tilts his head back, clenching his jaw.
“Everything I do, I do for this kingdom,” Vorr continues, looking anywhere but at his son. “I shall do as I see fit.”
He pauses, and silence falls over us.
“The two of you will be married in a fortnight.” His words are those of the High King. Not of a father.
“What?” Viridian’s voice is sharp, like the crack of a whip.
My head snaps toward him. I furrow my brows in an effort to contain my emotions.
“Father,” Viridian protests, “you cannot return and simply—”
“I am the High King.” Vorr stands, anger sharpening his tone. “My word is law. You will do as I command.”
Viridian seethes, his amber eyes burning like hot coals. His entire body goes rigid, hands curled into fists by his sides. He doesn’t look at me—his anger seems to only be directed at his father.
Then why does he object to our marriage? Out of spite, or because…
My chest constricts.
Maybe he doesn’t want to be tied to me forever.
Vorr is silent for a moment, and then sits back down. “You are dismissed. Both of you. ”
Viridian bows quickly before storming out of the throne room.
I curtsy, and then rush out into the hallway after him.
“Viridian!” I call, but he doesn’t seem to hear me. “Viridian, stop. Please .”
He freezes in his tracks, still facing forward. I catch up with him, and stand before him, looking up at his face.
Tempests rage in his eyes, yet I dare to reach out to him anyway. Gently, I place a hand on his arm.
“Look at me,” I beg.
And he does. His expression softens when his eyes find mine, though I can still see that his walls are up, shielding what’s inside.
“Talk to me,” I say.
“Cryssa, please.” Viridian sighs and presses a hand to his mouth. “Not now.”
“Fine,” I surrender. “But at least let me join you for dinner. I—I miss you.”
For a moment, I see past his barriers. I see him— my Viridian.
“Very well,” he says with a slight nod. “I will see you at dinner.”
T iffy is quiet when she does my hair tonight .
I am, too. It’s not because I don’t want to speak to her. It’s because there’s a numbness I feel, invading my bones. Emotions swirling in my mind, trapping me in my own skin.
It almost makes me yearn for the simplicity of life in Slyfell. The depth and range of emotions I’ve felt here, at High Keep, compares to nothing I’ve felt at home. Not even the death of my mother—after all, I was much too young at the time to truly understand it.
When Tiffy finishes, I stand, smoothing out my skirts. “Thank you, Tiffy.”
“Of course, Miss.” Tiffy bows her head, and then she and my other ladies’ maids leave.
I wait in the comforts of my bedchamber for a moment.
Unfamiliar nerves jumble in my abdomen.
Am I doing the right thing?
Am I a fool for trying? Should I let Viridian go, and let the distance between us grow?
No.
The thought of letting him drift away makes my body go rigid. I don’t want to let him go.
I have to try. I have to be brave.
No matter what it takes.
Taking a deep breath, I hold my head high and make for the great hall.
When I arrive, I take my seat across from Viridian. He tilts his head down, loose black hair falling in front of his eyes. Shielding them .
He doesn’t say anything. No greeting, no acknowledgment.
Nothing.
Anger sparks in my chest, but I suppress it. If I give in to my anger, I’ll only push him away more.
That’s the opposite of what I want.
So, I say nothing, only speaking to thank the servants when they arrive with the first course. And then the second.
“Have I done something wrong?” I ask at last, breaking the silence. I move my food around my plate with my fork. “If I have, then I’m sorry.”
“No,” Viridian says, his eyes cast down at some spot on the table. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Cryssa.”
“Then what is it?” I ask. “And don’t tell me it’s nothing. I know that’s not true.”
“I—” he pauses, and swallows. “This isn’t what you want.”
“This?”
“Us. This betrothal. This life.” He practically spits out the last word.
I tighten my mouth.
I can only shake my head. “That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” His voice increases in volume. “Then look me in the eyes and tell me that you do.”
“Viridian, I…”
“You can’t,” he says, looking as if he tasted something sour. He looks away from me, avoiding my gaze .
“Viridian,” I repeat, my voice firm. “This is about Loren, isn’t it.”
He hardens his expression, gripping his fork and knife.
“Isn’t it?” I press.
“Yes,” he shoots out. “It is.”
I lean forward. “Why?”
“Because you love him!” His words rush from his mouth, as if he’s exploding on the inside. “You love him,” he repeats, though this time, his words are barely above a whisper. “Don’t you?”
My heart aches in my chest.
I was afraid of this.
The two halves of my heart are colliding. Crashing into one another.
“Viridian.” My voice is faint.
“Tell me you don’t love him.” He looks at me with the face of defeat, and his voice trembles. It trembles .
I look away.
Because I can’t give him the answer he wants.
I do love Loren. Part of me always will.
But I…
I’m falling for him, too.
“That’s what I thought,” Viridian continues bitterly, picking up his goblet of wine.
My stomach sinks.
I want to tell him otherwise, but my mouth feels as if it’s been locked shut.
“So no, you haven’t done anything wrong.” He takes a greedy swig of wine, tipping his head back.
“Regardless,” I say, finding the words, “we are to be married. I want to be friends again. Please, try. That’s all I ask.”
He takes another sip of wine, swishing it around in his mouth. He swallows, and then looks at me, eyes narrowed. “Fine. I’ll carry on as usual. As if nothing’s happened.”
Tears prick at my eyes. This isn’t what I wanted. How can I make him see that? How can I pierce the veil he’s pulled between us?
I know it’s unlike me, but I don’t hide the sadness in my eyes. Part of me wants to say something. Anything, if not to let this conversation end like this.
But I have nothing more to say.
No energy to fight.
Viridian stands, and his chair scrapes across the floor when he does. Without another word, he slips from the great hall, leaving his dinner half-finished.
And me, all alone.