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* * *

She was always going to ruin me.

I knew it the moment I saw her at the Maple Pig, her white-blonde hair catching the bar’s dim lights, her brilliant blue eyes sharp with warmth and secrets.

“Do I seem like a man who orders pink drinks?” I raise an eyebrow, testing her reaction.

“You must not be from around here,” she counters, her eyes locked on mine, like she’s sizing me up.

“I’ll take it as a compliment that I don’t seem like I’m from a small town in Maine,” I say, allowing myself the ghost of a smile.

“People come here from all over. But I always remember a face. And yours...”

She smiled after that, having no idea she was about to change my life in the best way possible.

* * *

Soon, I’m in my quarters in the Winter Court.

Her projected form appears out of nowhere, and I react instinctively, my sword slicing through her ghostly figure. The blade passes through harmlessly, but something inside me fractures.

My sword clatters to the ground, my chest tight with panic.

Because even though I barely know her, the thought of harming her feels like plunging that blade straight into my own heart.

* * *

And then, the moment I realized how vulnerable she is while she projects…

“Were we going to discuss the pros and cons of my magic while the Stalo was punching its way through the tree?” she snaps, as irresistibly defiant as ever.

“Don’t try twisting this around,” I growl, stepping close, crowding her against the tree’s cold, rough wall.“You had plenty of chances to tell me. But instead, I had to figure it out by watching you collapse like you were?—”

“Like I was dead,” she finishes. “That’s what this is really about, isn’t it? You thought I wasn’t coming back. You were scared.”

My breath catches, words lodged painfully in my throat. “I thought you were gone,” I admit. “And that there was nothing I could do to save you.”

I don’t tell her the rest—that when she fell, something shattered inside me. That despite all my father’s lessons about weakness and control, I’d tear apart the world to bring her back.

Because confessing that would mean accepting how hopelessly lost I already am.

* * *

Next, the cave.

The storm howls outside, but inside, there’s only Sapphire.

“If you want to stop, tell me now,” I manage to say, my voice rough with emotion I’ve spent decades suppressing. “If you don’t?—“

“No,” she interrupts, her eyes clear and certain. “Don’t stop. I don’t want to stop.”

Just like that, I’m surrendering to the inevitable. To something bigger than fate, bigger than war, and bigger than either of us could possibly know.

* * *

Finally, the moment I’ve replayed obsessively since the dryad stole that piece of my soul. The one I’ve tried to dissect, to feel, to make sense of—and failed every time.

I lean forward, pressing my lips to hers, and when I pull away, I hesitate. Because once spoken, the words building in my throat can never be taken back. They’ll become real, dangerous, and destructive.