Page 18

Sapphire

The spectral ship that the cloaked girl told us about won’t appear at the pier until nighttime.

Which means Riven and I are stuck regrouping in the haunted cabin in the middle of nowhere, trying to puzzle together what each object the girl gave us could be, while trying to get in some rest, too.

It would have been much easier if she’d packed a phone with the other supplies. But no—we’re left with a cryptic map, a bundle of strange ingredients, and just enough space to keep from killing each other.

Finally, after what feels like forever, night falls.

“Our royal ride should be arriving soon,” Riven says, gathering the materials into our pack.

I fold my arms and arch an eyebrow at him. “I’m sure it’ll be a five-star yacht,” I deadpan. “Complete with fluffy robes and hot towels. Since everything in our situation has been so luxurious so far.”

“Hey.” He tilts his head, and I swear he looks offended. “Don’t insult Ghost.”

I frown at the mention of his faithful snow leopard that we left behind in Celeste and her sisters’ care.

“Fine,” I give in. “At least you have good taste in pets.”

“Or rather, they have good taste in me,” he replies in that gratingly charming way of his. “Familiars choose their fae. Not the other way around.”

“Wow—you actually know what it feels like to not have a say in something,” I say dryly.

“I don’t have a say in everything.”

His voice shifts, quiet but sharp. And when I glance at him, his expression has darkened. There’s something unreadable in his gaze—something deeper than his usual arrogance.

But before I can figure it out, he strides toward the door.

“Are you coming, or not?” he asks.

I glare at his back, my fingers tightening at my sides. “Do I have a choice?”

His steps slow slightly, like he wasn’t expecting the question.

“You owe me nothing anymore,” he says, his words throwing me off guard. Not because I don’t want them to be true, but because there’s a hint of something beneath them. A sliver of hesitation.

Like he’s worried I might actually stay back.

“And it’s going to stay that way,” I say, lifting my chin in defiance.

His jaw tightens. Then, without another word, he spins around and leads the way out of the cabin, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, ready for whatever might be lurking outside.

I mirror him, my dagger gripped tightly in my palm. The dagger I had before the trials, not the one the cloaked girl left for me in the trunk, although that one is safely tucked into its sheath on my weapons belt.

Magic crackles around both of us as we step outside.

Luckily, nothing greets us except the salt-laced wind and the night sky, heavy with stars scattered like shattered diamonds across the darkness.

The pier stretches before us, weathered wood gleaming silver in the moonlight.

And there, in the distance, a ship materializes through the mist.

It doesn’t drift into view—it appears, unraveling from the darkness like it was never real to begin with. Its translucent sails billow with the wind, its hull flickering between existence and nothingness. It’s a ghost of a vessel, glowing with an otherworldly shimmer, as if caught between realms.

“Well,” Riven says, his voice carrying that infuriating mix of amusement and authority, “I suppose that’s our ride.”

“Definitely not a five-star yacht,” I mutter, but my magic is already stirring beneath my skin, responding to the energy radiating from the vessel.

“I’d say not.” His gaze sharpens, tracking the ship’s movement. “And unfortunately, it’s not docking at the pier. My guess is that it’s anchored down.”

I scan the pier, but there’s nothing. Not a rowboat, not a single way to reach it.

“Guess we’ll have to swim,” I say, shooting him a glance. “And I’d advise against another strip tease like the one you gave me in that chamber. Unlike then, you won’t be able to get your clothes back afterward.”

His lips curl into a slow, dangerous smirk. “Hey—you’re the one who was thinking about it.” He holds one hand up in mock innocence, the other still holding his sword.

I clench my fists, magic crackling at my fingertips. “We should go,” I snap, stalking forward onto the pier, the wooden planks groaning beneath my steps.

Riven follows, his presence at my side too familiar, too close, and too heavy with things unspoken.

We step onto the pier, and the air shifts. The pressure changes.

A growl rumbles from below.

Then—splintering wood.

Riven yanks me back in a blur of movement, his grip iron tight as a monstrous, snarling creature erupts from below, its fur dripping with seawater, its jagged teeth snapping at the air. The thing reeks of rotting salt and brine, its hulking body coiling unnaturally, as if it’s been waiting for this moment for years.

“What the—?” I hiss, my magic buzzing under my skin, ready to strike.

The creature rears up, letting out a screech that’s part shriek, part roar. Like the ocean itself crying out in rage.

“Tell me you’ve fought one of these before,” I say to Riven, flipping my dagger into a steady grip.

“Afraid not.” He draws his sword in a single, fluid motion, frost coating the blade, already having thrown the pack to the ground. “But I’m always eager to try new things.”

The creature lunges.

I dive left. Riven rolls right.

Perfect sync. Just like he drilled into me during training.

The monster’s claws tear through the spot where we were standing, splintering the wood like paper.

Magic floods my veins, and I slam it forward in a blast of air and water to knock the beast off balance.

It staggers, and Riven’s already moving, his body a blur of lethal grace as he leaps at the monster and slashes deep into one of its limbs.

Frost spreads instantly, the wound leaking a mixture of blood and seawater. But the monster retaliates fast, swiping at Riven with one massive, clawed limb, followed by the other.

Riven ducks and dodges, moving like he was built for war. But even as he lands another clean hit, the monster’s first wound closes in practically a second.

Far faster than any supernatural healing I’ve ever heard of or experienced.

But I can’t just stand here and stare. I have to act.

So, I raise my hands and call on the ocean, pulling moisture from the air and sea, shaping it into marble-sized orbs.

Then, with a flick of my wrist—I launch them.

The razor-sharp water bullets hit their mark, piercing the monster’s hide like a hail of daggers.

The monster shrieks. But just like the sword wounds, the holes seal in a second.

“Any weak spots you can see?” I call out to Riven, shooting another round of “water bullets” at the monster. They make it flinch back, but the wounds heal before I can blink.

“Working on it,” Riven calls back, his voice tight with concentration.

His blade flashes. Another deep slash, this time across the monster’s shoulder.

The ice spreads, slowing the healing, but only for a moment.

“Although I have to admit,” he adds, sidestepping another brutal swipe, ice magic twisting around him like a storm, “this is a new one, even for me.”

His form blurs as he circles behind the monster, his sword flashing in a precise, lethal arc before slicing its neck.

The wound should be fatal.

Instead, the monster jerks back, jaw gaping wide, revealing rows of needle-sharp teeth.

Pulling from the ocean below, I shape a fresh round of water bullets and launch them into the creature’s mouth.

They strike deep in its throat, and it reels back with an ungodly shriek. But even as blood and seawater spray from its skin, the wounds are already closing.

“That’s getting annoying,” I growl, gathering more water from the ocean.

“I’m all for annoying it to death,” Riven says in dry amusement, his blade flashing as he strikes again, ice spreading from each cut. “But let’s find a smarter way to end this.”

“Always logic over emotions.” I roll my eyes as the monster whirls with impossible speed.

Its tail sweeps across the pier, and I jump. But the blow still catches my legs, sending me crashing onto the pier, my head slamming against the wood.

Pain explodes in my skull.

Everything blurs.

A massive, clawed hand pins me down, crushing the air from my lungs.

And then the monster’s face is looming over me, jaws unhinging to reveal rows of needle-sharp teeth that are coming closer, threatening to shred me into more pieces than Eros’s arrow when he shot my heart.