Page 29

Sapphire

The vortex of the in-between fades, leaving me, Riven, and Circe standing in the clearing once more.

The weight of Matt’s revelations presses down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. Zoey’s in danger—real, immediate danger—and we’re still so far from reaching her.

And the Cosmic Tides… I can’t begin to imagine what to expect from them.

“Well,” Circe says, gesturing at the pig’s body lying in the center of the ritual circle. “At least Antonius finally proved useful. He was a sailor who displeased me long ago—it was far past his time. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled about contributing to such a noble cause.”

The words take a moment to register.

“What do you mean that your pig was a sailor?” I ask.

Circe’s golden eyes dance with amusement. “Oh, did I forget to mention? The pigs on my island weren’t always pigs. They were men who landed here. Arrogant, entitled sailors who thought they could take whatever they wanted.” She waves her hand dismissively. “All I did was reveal their true forms.”

Water droplets rise from the ground as my magic responds to the growing horror in my chest. “You’re saying that pig was?—“

“A man I transformed.” She smirks.

I spin toward Riven, who’s been unnaturally quiet throughout this. No quick comebacks, no snide remarks… nothing.

“You knew what that pig really was,” I accuse him.

“Of course he knew.” Circe laughs. “Why do you think he ate the moly? It prevents me from being able to cast spells on him. Even though he’s not mortal, he’s smart enough to know that my power’s not to be trifled with.”

But I pay no attention to Circe. I don’t want to hear the truth from her. I want to hear it from Riven.

“That’s why you didn’t let me perform the sacrifice,” I continue, my voice rising like the wind curling around us. “You wanted the human blood on your hands—not on mine. You didn’t think I could handle doing what needed to be done.”

Frost plays along his fingertips, but his expression remains maddeningly indifferent.

“Would you have preferred to carry that weight yourself?” he asks me. “Would you have slept better knowing you’d taken an innocent human life?”

Circe’s musical laugh cuts through the air again, stopping me from replying.

“They were hardly innocent,” she says with another wave of her hand.

I don’t care. I don’t look at her. I only look at him.

“It wasn’t your choice to make,” I say, the wind gaining strength as my anger builds. “You don’t get to decide what I can and can’t handle. You don’t get to protect me from the truth just because you think I’m too weak to face it.”

“I never said you were weak.” His voice stays infuriatingly calm.

“Then what do you call what you just did?”

“A tactical decision.” The words leave his lips so smoothly, so emptily , that my magic surges in response, rattling through the air like a coming storm.

“Tactical,” I repeat, as emptily as he did. “No. You made a choice for me. Just like you always do. You manipulate, you control, and you decide what’s best for me without giving me a say. It’s?—”

The words knot in my throat.

Humiliating? Violating? Infuriating?

All of them fit. None of them are enough.

Riven watches me, his eyes colder than the frost playing on his fingertips.

“The pig needed to die quickly,” he says, holding his sharp gaze with mine. “You would have wavered once you realized he used to be human, and that hesitation could have compromised the ritual.”

“You don’t know that!” The water droplets fly toward him, but he deflects them with his sword. “You just assumed I couldn’t handle it, like how you assume everything about me, all the time, in a twisted, selfish attempt to protect me.”

“Protecting you isn’t selfish.”

His words are like a slap, sharp and unexpected.

Then he’s sheathing his sword and moving forward, closing the space between us until I’m forced to lift my chin to meet his eyes.

“Is it really so impossible for you to understand that I care about keeping you alive?” he continues, the air growing colder around us. “That I care about you?”

I freeze, his words echoing through my mind like a punch to the chest.

“You only care about what I can do for you,” I finally say, since that’s what he told me at the dryad’s tree. “You don’t actually care about me.”

His jaw tightens, and a flicker of something dangerously close to pain flashes in his expression.

And then—like always—he buries it. Locks it beneath the ice before it can surface.

“Fascinating,” Circe purrs, watching us like we’re her favorite form of entertainment. “Such passion. Are you certain there’s nothing left between you two?”

“This was a marriage to unite the Summer and Winter Courts,” I snap at her, more magic stirring inside me as I remember Riven’s proposal in Lysandra’s throne room. “So we can stand strong against the Night Court.”

I glance at Riven, watching his frost spread out beneath his boots, crackling along the ground.

“You say you want the truth,” he tells me, stepping forward, the frost on the ground traveling with him as he moves, “but every time you get it, you twist it into another reason to hate me.”

I flinch, but I don’t back down.

“Given that you bargained away your feelings for me, I didn’t think you’d care whether I hate you or not,” I say, and water droplets spiral in the wind around us, matching the storm of emotions in my chest.

The temperature plummets, and delicate frost patterns climb from his fingers to his elbows.

“A lack of love isn’t the same as pure hatred,” he says softly, and I’m speechless as the words hang between us, heavy with meaning I can’t fully place.

“At least I still feel something,” I finally say, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “At least my heart isn’t made of ice.”

He sucks in a sharp breath, and his fingers twitch slightly at his sides, as if he’s resisting the urge to reach for his sword.

Circe claps her hands together, unimpressed. “Men,” she sighs, rolling her eyes. “Always so dramatic. This is precisely why they make better pigs.” She turns her palm to the sky, and flames dance around her fingers. “At least pigs don’t spend their time arguing in séance circles about their feelings—or lack thereof.”

Riven opens his mouth—no doubt to shoot something icy her way—but Circe silences him with a single pointed look before turning back to me.

“Dawn approaches,” she says. “You’re welcome to stay in my palace. It would certainly be more comfortable than that ghastly vessel you sailed in on.”

“We’ll return to the ship,” Riven cuts in, leaving no room for argument.

Circe’s lips curve into an amused smile. “The invitation wasn’t extended to you, Winter Prince,” she says, turning back to me. “As for you, Princess, my palace has plenty of room. Warm beds, hot baths, and homemade meals. You could rest properly before beginning your journey to the Cosmic Tides.”

The offer is tempting. More than tempting. Space to breathe without Riven’s constant presence setting my magic on edge—without the temptation of his blood, and the threat of pain from his touch. A chance to process everything we learned about Matt and Zoey without his scrutiny hanging over me like a blade...

But even as I consider it, I know I can’t accept.

“Your offer is generous, and your palace sounds lovely,” I say to Circe, keeping my voice steady, “but I should stay with the ship.”

“Are you certain?” she asks.

“Yes,” I reply, refusing to look at Riven. “I’m certain.”

“Such a shame.” She sighs dramatically. “However, since the sun won’t rise for another hour or so, I trust you can use the stars to navigate your way back to the beach?”

I glance up at the sky, where the stars pulse with comforting light. “I can,” I tell her.

“Then good luck finding the Star Disc,” she says, and the torches around us flare up, brightening the clearing. “And try not to kill each other before you leave. You both have… a great deal of energy left to release.”

She disappears in a burst of flames, leaving behind silence, flickering torchlight, and the weight of everything left unsaid.

Riven exhales, his tension fading. “I’m surprised you didn’t go with her,” he finally says.

I study him—silver eyes and midnight hair that glints in the firelight, a face as cold as carved marble.

“Believe me, I was tempted,” I admit. “But I think I trust her less than I trust you.”

His smirk is slow and smug.

“A high compliment from my dearest wife,” he says, and I immediately regret my words. “Now, shall we return to our honeymoon on the haunted ship?”

“I’d rather honeymoon in the depths of the Cosmic Tides and see if I can drown myself before you can pull me out,” I tell him, but he just gives me an infuriatingly triumphant smile, and I spin on my heel, gathering wind at my fingertips as I lead us back to the shore.