Page 4

Sapphire

“My father is a vampire king?” I ask Lysandra, since out of all my suspicions when I walked in here, that certainly wasn’t one of them.

Obviously, I knew I’m part vampire. But vampire royalty?

That, combined with my resemblance to the Summer Queen, is nearly impossible to process. Not to mention that I hadn’t anticipated learning about my heritage at all on this adventure to the Summer Palace, let alone in a single blow.

“Damien came to the Summer Court twenty years ago on a diplomatic mission,” Lysandra says, and while her voice remains steady and controlled, a flash of emotion crosses her eyes. “He was seeking an alliance against a pair of rogue vampires who were causing chaos in both our realms. An alliance that led to an unexpected consequence—a child.”

“Vampires can’t reproduce,” Riven cuts in before I can say anything, his voice edged with suspicion.

“Correct.” Lysandra nods at him, then returns her focus to me. “However, I created a potion that made it possible. You see—I wanted Damien to rule beside me as my consort. When he refused and returned to the mortal realm, I opted to not tell him about the pregnancy. Instead, I hid it, eventually giving birth privately to a child who was both fae and vampire. A combination that would likely get that child killed the moment anyone discovered what she was.”

My throat tightens. The world around me blurs. The fountain in the center of the room churns, responding to the storm of emotions I can’t contain.

“I’m that child,” I say, since by now, it’s more than obvious. “Yours and Damien’s.”

“Yes,” she calmly confirms, as if she didn’t just send everything I knew about my entire life crashing to the ground. “I bound your magic, found a woman in the mortal realm who had just given birth, and switched you out with her human child. I did what was necessary to keep you safe. Alive.”

It shouldn’t be a surprise. After all, everyone around here believes they can decide how to keep me alive, whether I agree to it or not.

“But you’re a queen,” I finally force out. “If anyone could have figured out a solution that didn’t involve abandoning me in another realm, it should have been you.”

“Even a queen cannot defy the basic instinct of fearing the unknown,” she says. “And you, Sapphire Solandriel, are an unknown worthy of fearing.”

“Hayes,” I quickly correct her. “Sapphire Hayes.”

She laughs—a twinkling, musical sound that drips with amusement.

“You are Sapphire Solandriel,” she repeats. “Princess of the Summer Court.”

I frown, working through this in my mind. It doesn’t make sense. None of it does.

But I can think of only one logical retort.

“You said my father is Damien Fairmont,” I finally say, leveling my gaze with Lysandra’s. “Which means my name would be Sapphire Fairmont.”

Well, technically Princess Sapphire Fairmont, but the royal title sounds so absurd that I can’t bring myself to say it.

“I am the Queen of the Summer Court,” she replies, as if I needed reminding. “Mortal naming rules do not apply here. Your name is Sapphire Solandriel.”

Riven moves slightly beside me, and I snap my focus to him.

“I advise you stop arguing with the Summer Queen,” he says, irritatingly calm as he looks down at me. “Princess Sapphire Solandriel.”

Wind gathers around me as I glare at him with enough force to break him.

But of course, he’s unfazed. He never breaks. Not like I do.

He’s just smugly standing there while I finally get answers about my entire heritage, having the nerve to give me a hard time about it.

“In case you needed a reminder in this past hour, I hate you, Prince Riven Draevor,” I snap at him.

“No reminder needed.” He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t flinch. He just smirks, slow and deliberate, like this was exactly the reaction he wanted.

And then, as if this conversation is nothing more than a casual exchange, he turns to Lysandra and asks, “Now, tell me, Your Majesty. Do you find your daughter’s dramatics as charming as I do?”

Lysandra raises an eyebrow, makes her way back up to her throne, and takes a slow, deliberate seat.

“Do I sense a lover’s quarrel?” she asks, excitement dancing in her eyes as she looks back and forth between me and Riven.

“We are not lovers,” I bite out before Riven can twist it into something worse.

“Well, we were.” He tilts his head slightly, as if he’s recalling a fond memory instead of a complete disaster. “But don’t worry, Princess Sapphire Solandriel. I don’t take it personally. I’ve been told I’m hard to forget.”

Something in my chest splinters open, breaking free before I can stop it.

“You would know a thing or two about forgetting,” I shoot back at him, the words dripping with the pain of every cruel thing he said to me after he erased his so-called love for me.

Lysandra ignores me, remaining focused on Riven.

It’s humiliating. As if I’ve walked into a court where I’ve unknowingly been assigned the role of jester.

“Oh, I like you,” the queen tells Riven, as if he’s a rare piece of art she’s decided to acquire. “Now tell me, Prince Riven Draevor—what did you do to earn such heartfelt loathing?”

Riven doesn’t miss a beat. “I saved her life,” he says. “Multiple times. However, she took issue with my methods—particularly the most recent one. As you can see from, well… this.”

He motions to me, as if I’m the problem. As if my rage, my grief, and my agony is something unreasonable.

As if it’s not something he caused.

“You manipulated me,” I say, and my magic surges, wind rattling the vines that coil around the marble columns. “You lied to me. You pretended you cared?—”

“I cared about keeping you alive,” he snaps, frost crawling from his fingertips up to his elbows. “And I succeeded. Which is how we’re here right now. Alive.”

Emptiness shoots through my chest as he unleashes the final word.

Alive.

As if he doesn’t care that his methods to keep me alive shattered my heart. Which shouldn’t be surprising, since he didn’t care about my heart in the first place.

Lysandra hums, tilting her head as she studies me. “And yet, for all your survival, you both seem terribly upset about it,” she says. “Why does this hatred for the prince burn so brightly, child? If he’s as awful as you claim, why do you waste such passion on him? Such fire?”

I scoff, but it comes out sharp and broken, like laughter carved from glass. “This is not passion,” I say. “It’s just what happens when you’re forced to be in the same room as someone so insufferable.”

Riven studies me, his eyes lingering on every curve of my body in a way that makes my heart race. “And yet, you always find yourself so worked up in my presence,” he says, sounding more entertained than anything else.

I round on him, my hand moving to the hilt of my dagger. “Don’t tempt me, Prince Riven Draevor,” I seethe, a second away from stabbing him.

“I didn’t realize you enjoyed my title so much,” he says lightly. “You never used it while we were?—”

“Stop,” I snap, although from the way his sentence hangs in the air, we all know what he was about to say.

My cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“As entertaining as your lover’s quarrel is,” Lysandra breaks in, although her smile suggests she’s far from done with the subject, “perhaps we should discuss why you’re really here.”

Riven shifts his attention away from me, and just like that, he’s back to business.

“Your Majesty, recent events have made it clear that we face a threat greater than either of our courts can handle alone.” His voice is pure ice—controlled and measured—whatever emotions he let slip through a minute ago gone. “And now that I’m aware of Sapphire’s true heritage, I’ve been struck with an idea that will greatly strengthen what we journeyed here to request.”

“Proceed,” the queen says, and I keep my hand on my dagger, disliking the look in Riven’s eyes even more than I normally do.

“I’d like to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

His words crash into me with the force of a hurricane.

“What?!” The sheer intensity of my rage sends a burst of wind slamming through the throne room, rattling the chandeliers overhead.

Riven, intolerably composed, merely raises a brow. “You heard me.”

“You—” I whirl to fully face him, my pulse hammering so fast it’s making me dizzy. “Are you out of your mind?”

Lysandra’s bubbling laugh echoes through the room, yanking me out of my shock.

“Now, this is interesting.” She brings her hands together, and I swear she’s truly delighted. “Tell me, Prince Riven—what has inspired you to request my daughter’s hand in marriage? Other than her obvious charm.”

“Clearly not our undying love for each other,” he says the first sensible thing he has since sealing the deal with that dryad. “However, the Winter Court’s strength combined with the Summer Court’s resources will give us the best chance possible to defeat a common—and very dangerous—enemy.”

“Explain,” the queen commands, sounding the most serious she has since we met her.

“Happily,” he says. “Because the Night Court and the Blood Coven have formed an alliance. And if we don’t stop them, it will mean destruction not only for the Winter and Summer Courts, but for the mystical and mortal realms entirely.”