Page 32

RIVEN

The throne room is colder than I remember.

Ice crusts the massive pillars in jagged formations that weren’t there when I left, and the frost on the marble floor creeps up the walls like climbing vines. Icicles hang from the chandelier overhead, beautiful in their deadliness, and the windows are covered with frost.

The air hums with madness. Corruption.

Dread curls through my stomach at the memory of the older version of myself—the Lonely King—creating frost patterns along those same windowpanes. My first meeting with Ghost, the wedding kiss in the water with Sapphire, and my sword impaling the mysterious night fae.

I will not become the Lonely King. Whatever happens in the confrontation with my father, I will not take his crown.

Valerian positions his guards at the entrance, while four more emerge from the shadows to line the perimeter. They stand at attention, although their eyes dart between Sapphire and me, waiting for the slightest excuse to attack.

“Stay alert,” I murmur to Sapphire. “Judging from the state of the throne room, my father’s mind is fracturing faster than the court dares to admit.”

She nods, her water magic humming beneath the surface.

Ghost and Nebula move closer to our sides, their muscles coiled and ready.

Finally, the doors at the far end of the hall crack open, and my father strides in. His long, leopard fur cloak trails behind him, and a crown of ice glistens atop his dark, silver-streaked hair. His eyes—wild, glacial, and sharp—lock onto mine with a fury I haven’t seen since the day he told me my mother was gone.

Magic ripples from him in waves, the temperature in the room plummeting further.

“So,” he says, his voice a deadly whisper that carries across the room, “the traitor prince returns—with the Summer spy who should have died by his hand.”

I step forward, placing myself slightly in front of Sapphire. “Father?—”

“Silence!” he roars, and spears of ice erupt from the floor around him. “You dare call me father? After what you’ve done?”

The guards tense, hands moving to their weapons.

“You murdered my knights,” my father continues, each word accompanied by another spike of ice shooting from the floor. “You fled the court with a condemned traitor. You abandoned your duties, your throne, and your blood.” His eyes narrow to slits. “You are no son of mine.”

I stand steady—as I’ve always done—not letting him see how much every word shakes my soul.

“We’re here to help you,” I say, keeping my voice measured despite the frost threatening to spiral out of my fingertips.

A bitter laugh escapes him. “Help me? By bringing the Summer Court’s assassin into my throne room?”

His attention snaps to Sapphire, and he hurls a dagger at her heart.

Ice erupts from my right hand, creating a shield. At the same time, water from my left hand coils in a sharp current, wrapping around the projectile and redirecting it away from Sapphire.

The weapon crashes into the marble pillar behind us, nearly impaling the head of one of the guards in the process.

Sapphire’s fingers are inches from her dagger—or to her Star Disc—but she doesn’t draw. Instead, she glances at me, silently confirming what we already decided: it’s too soon to reveal our strongest weapon.

My father staggers back, his eyes wide.

“What—” he begins, staring at the mixture of water and ice swirling around us. “You wield water?”

I lower my shield, keeping the water dancing at my fingertips.

“Yes,” I say, holding his silver gaze.

His face contorts, twisted by fury and madness. “You are of Winter!” he snarls. “You cannot wield Summer’s gifts!”

“Yet here I stand.” My voice rings with hard finality. “Still your son, no matter how much you want to deny it.”

Sapphire steps closer to me, her elbow nearly touching mine.

My magic hums in response, although I keep my focus trained on my father. It would only take a moment of distraction for him to get in another strike.

“You are corrupted!” he says unleashing a storm of ice shards that slam against my shield. The impact rattles me to my core, but I hold my ground, dragging Sapphire behind me.

“The only reason I’m not slicing him with the Star Disc is because of you,” she murmurs so only I can hear.

“Smart girl,” I whisper back, letting my shield ease just enough to study my father’s face.

If he loses control completely, the only person allowed to end him is me.

The ice around my heart thickens at the thought.

“Father,” I say, my voice carrying the weight of authority I’ve earned through blood and sacrifice, “Sapphire is not a traitor. She’s the Summer Princess. And she’s my wife.”

His eyes narrow, and the ice storm around him grows.

“Remember when you mistook her for Queen Lysandra?” I press, stepping forward, feeling Sapphire just behind me. “Your instincts were generally correct. Because Sapphire is Queen Lysandra’s daughter, therefore making her the Summer Princess.”

His posture shifts.

“Explain,” he demands, and as he sits on his throne, the ice daggers rising from the floor quiver and melt slightly.

Even madness can’t dull his political senses enough to ignore the ramifications of killing the Summer Queen’s daughter.

I need to take hold of his moment of clarity and use it before it’s gone.

“Everything I’ve done has been to protect our court from the threats beyond our borders,” I say, as calm and measured as always.

Ice erupts from around the throne.

“I want to know about the Summer traitor,” my father threatens, his voice rising.

I nod, letting no emotions show through. After all, the best way to prevent my father’s outbursts is to not antagonize them in the first place.

“Sapphire was a changeling.” My voice is steady, although my magic thrums beneath my skin, bracing for his reaction. “The strongest, most gifted changeling I’ve ever encountered.”

My love for her is breaking through with every word I speak, but honestly, I don’t care. Let them see it. Let it carve its way into their frozen hearts and prove that love, when wielded correctly, can be the deadliest of weapons.

My father’s eyes narrow, calculating and suspicious, but listening.

“Sapphire’s magic was necessary for a project of mine,” I continue, “one I believed would strengthen the Winter Court against the threats circling our borders.”

My father’s gaze flickers.

I can see the question forming—after all, he’s aware that winter fae are being stolen near the borders as much as I am—but I press on before he can ask.

“My intention was always to get Sapphire out of this court and use her to our advantage. So, when the knights attempted to stop me, I made a choice to protect my… investment.” I don’t soften the words, and I don’t apologize. He wouldn’t respect that. He’d perceive it as weakness. “Upon arriving at the Summer Court, we met with Queen Lysandra. She offered us a deal—an alliance between our courts, uniting our magic to fend off what lurks beyond our realm. But she had one condition.”

I raise my hand slowly, showing him and everyone else in this throne room the mark that glows around my ring finger.

Sapphire mirrors the motion.

“We married,” I declare. “Which makes us the Prince and Princess of the Winter and Summer Courts.”