Page 13

SAPPHIRE

As the blazing light nears, it slows—no longer wild, but purposeful.

The Star Disc. It has to be.

My breath catches. My pulse stutters. Every bone in my body screams for me to take it.

So, I do.

The moment my fingers extend forward, the Disc closes the distance. Not like an object, but as a living thing that’s been waiting for me.

I gaze down in awe. Because it’s not just beautiful—it’s transcendent. Forged from celestial metal that glints with impossible color, its sharp, star-cut edges shimmer with ancient, swirling designs. It’s also heavier than it looks—like holding fate itself—but somehow weightless.

At its center, a large, deep sapphire pulses like a living heart.

You have claimed your fate.

The words don’t come from Riven. They don’t come from me. They’re not the haunting voices of the Tides, trying to slither into my mind. Instead, they come from everywhere and nowhere, threading through the air like a cosmic decree.

You will be the light that burns the darkness away, the voice continues, and a smile spreads across Riven’s face—not his usual smirk, but something genuine and filled with pride.

“They got that right,” he says, reaching out to touch the Disc. “You’ve always been the brightest thing in any room.”

The compliment warms me from within, and the Disc responds to my emotion, its sapphire center glowing brighter.

“I think I’m in love,” I murmur as I stare down at it.

Riven’s brow lifts. “Should I be jealous of a celestial weapon?”

“Never.” I laugh, feeling the Disc laugh with me. “You’re still my favorite deadly object.”

“High praise, coming from you.” He steps forward, and that energy buzzes between us—the one that’s been there since I fused our souls.

His breathing slows, and the air bends around us, chilled and charged.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he says, mesmerized, his fingers grazing my cheek.

“You’re saying it like it didn’t already happen.” I take a sharp breath inward, pain shooting through my heart all over again. “Like you didn’t just die in my arms less than an hour ago.”

“Yeah, well, you almost died in mine first. So let’s call it even.” His fingers skim my jaw, his touch softer than his words, his eyes studying me with such raw devotion that butterflies go crazy in my stomach. “But let’s not make this whole dying in each other’s arms thing a habit, all right?”

“That’s not a habit I ever want to make.” I let out a bitter laugh, pressing my palm against his chest—against the place where his heart stopped. “But if you die on me again, I’ll bring you back just to kill you myself.”

“You’re the only thing keeping me alive now, anyway.” His forehead presses against mine, his breathing uneven and his eyes closed, as if he’s soaking in every moment we have together. “You own my heart, . And my soul.”

I want to sink into him and live in him forever.

Which, I suppose, I sort of already did.

“You know I love you.” I tilt my head, my lips curving slightly. “But owning a Winter Prince’s heart and soul sounds like a lot of pressure.”

“You don’t just own them. You are them,” he says, like a vow written in frost and starlight. “But—speaking of things we own, I have something of yours.”

“Other than my soul?” I ask, teasing, but curious.

Riven just smiles—that rare, genuine smile that makes my heart skip a beat—and reaches into his pocket.

“I’ve been carrying this since our wedding day,” he says, withdrawing something that catches the cosmic light and sends blue reflections dancing across his face.

My sapphire bracelet. The one I threw into the ceremonial pool in the Summer Court.

My throat tightens. “How did you?—”

“I caught it before it hit the water,” he says, turning it over in his hand. “Froze it midair, actually. You were too busy making your grand declaration to the Summer Queen to notice.”

The bracelet glows under the starlight, the sapphires pulsing like a heartbeat.

It was my one connection to my mother—or at least, to the woman I thought was my mother—even though it had actually been from Lysandra, my birth mother. And I’d thrown it away in a moment of anger and defiance.

“Why would you save it?” I finally manage to ask.

“Because it mattered to you,” he replies, as if it should be obvious. “Because even when you hated me and I couldn’t remember loving you, I couldn’t let you lose something that meant so much to you.”

His honesty floors me. Because I remember the rage I felt that day. The satisfaction of dropping the bracelet into the water, of rejecting the lie that had been my life. But now, I feel something different—a bittersweet ache for everything that was and everything that still could be.

“This reminds me of the first time,” I say quietly. “Before the trials. When you gave the bracelet back to me in the tent.”

“It’s a good thing our wedding bands are infused into our skin, because you’re terrible at keeping track of your jewelry,” he says, and then, with gentle hands, he takes my wrist. “May I?”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

He fastens the bracelet around my wrist, and the moment it touches my skin, I feel a rush of warmth.

The Star Disc pulses in my other hand, responding to the bracelet like they’ve been waiting to be reunited.

“I can’t promise I’ll always make the right choices,” he says, his voice low and intense. “But I can promise I’ll always protect you, no matter where we go, or what we face, or how many times we have to save each other from cosmic monsters and vengeful gods.”

“I love you,” I tell him, since it’s the simplest explanation for the emotions rushing through my heart that I can think of.

“I know,” he says, that smirk finding its way back to his lips. “And you’re stuck with me now. Soulmates, remember?”

“Soulmates,” I repeat, as if testing the word on my tongue.

It feels right, somehow. Not just because of what I did to bring him back, but because of everything that led us here—every fight, every sacrifice, and every moment of connection.

“Yes, soulmates,” he says. “Tangled together so deeply that even when gods tried to pull us apart, they failed.”

And then his lips are on mine again, and I know that if we never emerge from the Cosmic Tides, it’ll be because we lost ourselves in each other forever.