Page 24

Sapphire

Three days of sailing through star-lit waters have left me hollow with hunger.

The vegetarian food helps, but it’s like trying to satisfy a wolf with grass. My body knows what it really needs, and it’s angry about not getting it. And, to make it worse, the thirst is stronger in the mortal realm than in the mystical realm.

I’ve been avoiding Riven as much as possible. Keeping my distance. Keeping my sanity. But it doesn’t stop the way my fangs ache when he’s near, and the way my breath catches on his scent, crisp and cold, like the first bite of winter.

But I shake my head sharply, forcing myself to focus on what matters—the Algol Star . We’re almost directly beneath it, and my magic shifts restlessly beneath my skin, responding to the energy radiating from above.

Finally, after midnight, the island we’re searching for emerges like a dream from the endless water.

Cliffs rise from the sea, their jagged edges softened by moonlight. The shoreline curves like a crescent, the sand glowing white beneath the star-strewn sky. Towering trees, their leaves an impossible shade of emerald, sway gently in the breeze, and the air carries the scent of honey and smoke.

We’re here. Finally.

Time to get Riven.

I take a slow breath, brace myself, and head to the cabin door, hesitating before pushing it open.

He’s asleep, sprawled on the bed, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths.

I stand there for a moment, studying him. The sharp lines of his cheekbones, the dark sweep of his lashes, the tousled black hair that always looks like he just ran a hand through it. Even in sleep, there’s a quiet intensity to him—a coiled stillness, like a predator at rest.

And his scent—ice, pine, and something darker—is everywhere.

My pulse spikes as the hunger crashes into me again. It’s stronger than it was a few hours ago when he went to sleep, and there he is, bound to be more than receptive to the wakeup call of my mouth on his neck…

No, I think as I dig my nails into my palms, hard enough to leave crescent-shaped marks on my skin.

I won’t let the hunger control me. I won’t give in.

“Riven,” I say, forcing myself to focus. “Wake up.”

His body tenses before his eyes open, silver and sharp, even in the dim light. For a fraction of a second, he just looks at me, his expression unreadable. Then, he blinks and stretches lazily—too lazily, like he’s deliberately drawing my attention to the way his muscles shift beneath his shirt—and sits up.

“Couldn’t give me five more minutes?” His voice is low, laced with sleep, rough in a way that makes my stomach tighten.

I cross my arms, ignoring the way my magic flares with frustration. “We’re here,” I tell him. “Beneath the Algol Star.”

A lazy smirk crosses his lips. “You mean you didn’t burst in here to finally get a taste?”

My stomach flips.

“If I was going to drink from you,” I say, keeping my voice cool and controlled, “I wouldn’t wake you up first.”

“Maybe I should go back to sleep then,” he says, and a breeze rushes through the cabin, making his hair look more perfectly tousled than it already did.

Why does everything about him have to tempt me so much?

“Look—you can either help me dock this thing, or I’ll do it alone,” I tell him, standing strong, taking shallow breaths so I don’t inhale too much of his deliciously wintry scent. “And given that I have no experience in docking ships, I recommend the latter.”

He shifts, stretching his arms above his head one more time before swinging his legs over the bed.

“You mean you don’t want to take another swim?” he asks.

More wind rushes through the cabin—stronger this time—and I spin on my heel, making my way back on deck.

When I emerge, something else catches my attention. Another island in the distance, obscured by shifting clouds that part just enough to reveal a massive, ancient-looking stone tower rising high in the sky, ancient and foreboding, its edges black against the starlight.

Riven’s next to me a moment later, studying the horizon, his presence pressing against me like a growing storm.

“Which one are we heading toward?” he asks, glancing back and forth between both islands.

I force myself to focus. Not on him—not on the way my magic stirs in his presence—but on the island. The one bathed in moonlight, its soft sands gleaming, its trees swaying in the warm breeze.

“The peaceful looking one,” I say with relief, stepping away from him.

Breathe, I think. Focus on the salty sea air—on anything but him.

“Yes, it does look peaceful,” he muses, watching the shoreline as our ship glides forward. “Which is exactly why it might be dangerous.”

I turn to him, frowning. “You think the one with the creepy, cloud-covered tower is the less dangerous option?”

“The most dangerous places are the ones that invite you in,” he replies, watching the welcoming, serene island with distrust. “After all, the deadliest predators are usually the most beautiful.”

His words sink into me before I realize what he’s doing—before I catch the pointed glance he slides in my direction and the slow, knowing smirk that follows.

The waves lap harder against the sides of the ship, the wind blowing the sails slightly off course.

Riven watches, amused but unconvinced.

“Thinking about how much you hate me?” he asks, his voice as smooth as the sea. Then softer, more invitingly, he adds, “Or perhaps about how beautiful I am?”

I focus on the winds, getting us back on course, which is the only thing keeping me from throttling him.

“I’m thinking we’re better off avoiding the island that looks like it belongs to a villain monologuing from his iron throne,” I say, although I can’t help looking at the paradise-like island with more caution now.

“Fair enough,” he says, although I can tell he isn’t convinced.

As we move closer, the details of the island sharpen. Thick, sprawling trees loom over the sand, their gnarled roots snaking out like fingers grasping for something unseen. And then?—

Pigs.

Dozens of them.

They roam freely, their hooves sinking into the damp shore, snouts buried in the sand as they search for whatever it is pigs look for.

“I guess whoever lives here is a farmer?” I say, trying to make sense of it.

Riven ignores me, instead reaching into the pack and pulling out a small bundle of white flowers with black roots—the herb the cloaked girl left for him. And then, without hesitation, he plucks off a few leaves and pops them into his mouth, chewing with a grimace.

I arch a brow. “Good?”

“Tastes like dirt,” he says swallowing with visible effort. “With a hint of regret.”

I laugh, but the sound dies abruptly when another wave of hunger crashes into me.

Because the pigs are alive. Their hearts are beating, their blood warm, their scent thick in the humid air.

Most importantly, they can stop me from losing control and pouncing on Riven.

I swallow hard, fisting my hands as I gather every bit of willpower to not jump into the ocean and swim to the shore. The only thing that keeps me from doing so is knowing that whenever I’ve jumped into bodies of water recently, there’s a blank spot in my memories when I emerge.

“If you’re going to drink,” Riven says, low but firm, “you need to be careful.”

I whip my head toward him, the wind blowing with my movements. “I am careful.”

He doesn’t argue. He just watches me, his gaze steady, sharp as a blade.

“Listen to me,” he says, and something in his tone makes me press my lips together to do just that. “Whoever owns this island might not take kindly to you killing their livestock. So, you’re going to take small drinks from multiple pigs. Four of them, at least. And you will not drain them. Understood?”

“I know how to handle myself,” I say as heat burns up my spine, a mix of anger and frustration.

“Then prove it.”

The challenge in his voice coils through me like a slow-burning fuse.

Because it’s not the pigs that will make me lose control. It’s him. His voice. His scent. His heartbeat.

And I’m positive that he knows it.

But not wanting to give in to whatever he’s trying to do to me, I exhale sharply, forcing my body to steady.

“Fine. Four pigs,” I agree. “No killing.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and before I can decide if I want to punch him or shove him into the ocean, he turns, adjusting the sails as we draw closer to shore.

I practically leap from the ship the moment we’re docked.

Behind me, Riven says something about anchoring the boat properly. But his voice fades beneath the roaring in my ears—the sound of dozens of heartbeats, the rush of blood through warm bodies, the promise of relief from the hunger.

The first pig barely has time to startle before I’m on it, and as I drink, the hunger lessens. My body drinks it in, and my magic hums as warmth spreads through my limbs, numbing the sharpest edges of my craving.

But Riven’s voice echoes in my mind.

Four pigs. No killing.

So, I drink just enough to take the edge off, then move to a second pig, a third, and finally, a fourth. By the time I finish, I feel steadier, clearer, my magic humming contentedly beneath my skin.

Now that I can think again, I look for Riven. He’s secured the ship, and he’s standing at the edge of the shore, his sword sheathed but ready.

“Better?” he asks me, but a column of fire erupts from the sand between us before I can reply, reaching toward the sky with such intensity that I have to shield my eyes.

I call water from the ocean, feeling it surge toward my hands, ready to strike.

Riven’s by my side in a heartbeat, his sword drawn, ice crawling along the blade.

The pigs squeal and hurry off.

And then, as quickly as it appeared, the flames dies down.

A woman now stands in its place.

She’s tall and regal, her dark curls spilling down her back in wild, twisting waves, streaked with gold like threads of fire woven through the strands. Her royal purple gown is embroidered with symbols I don’t recognize, and her eyes gleam with something far too knowing.

“Well,” she says, her voice rich and musical, “it’s been quite some time since I’ve had visitors who weren’t sailors or merchants.” Her gaze shifts between Riven and me—assessing, calculating, and eventually warming. “Welcome to Aeaea. I’m Circe—the sorceress who rules this island—and tonight, the two of you are my honored guests.”