Page 34

RIVEN

“No,” my father says, the word landing like a shard of ice. “You think me a fool? You think I can’t see the trap you’ve laid?”

“It’s not a trap,” Sapphire says, steady despite the tension. “It’s help.”

“Help from the Summer Court? From Lysandra’s daughter, who wed my son without my blessing?” A sharp gesture of his hand makes spikes of ice erupt around the room, one of them impaling a nearby knight in the process. Ice can’t kill our kind, but still, the result isn’t pretty—neither is his hair-raising scream. “You dare preach unity after creeping into my kingdom like a thief?”

I stand firm, even as frost causes an arm of one of the chandeliers to break off and crash to the floor with a crack that makes the closest guard flinch.

“You bring me poison dressed as medicine,” he continues, his voice rising. “You speak of unity while plotting to weaken me and take my throne!”

“Father—” I begin, but he slashes the air with one hand, ice forming a barrier between us.

“I will not drink your potion,” he growls. “I need no Summer filth in my veins. I am King Nivian of the Winter Court. My mind is as sharp as the ice I command.” His eyes snap to the guards. “Confine them. Now.”

The guards step forward, hands on their weapons.

Ghost growls, the fur along his spine bristling, while Nebula tenses beside Sapphire, her tail lashing in warning.

I exhale slowly.

Looks like it’s time for Plan B.

And while I knew this might happen, it doesn’t make what I’m about to do any easier.

“Enough.” My magic flares, a slushy mixture of frost and water spreading across the floor in a glittering circle, boxing me and Sapphire in.

The guards halt, uncertain, and I keep my gaze locked on my father’s.

“If you won’t drink the potion willingly,” I continue, “then prove you don’t need it.”

A hush settles over the room. The guards shift, hands tightening on their swords. Sapphire’s shoulder brushes mine, her presence anchoring me, as it always seems to do.

“What are you suggesting, traitor prince?” my father asks, his voice dangerously soft, ice lining the edges of his cloak.

I draw myself up to my full height, frost crackling along my arms, up my neck, and into my hair.

“I invoke the ancient right of the Winter Court,” I tell him, hardening the slush around me so it’s slicker than the ice I wield. “The Trial of Frost and Blood.”

Shocked murmurs ripple through the guards.

My father’s eyes blaze, outrage and disbelief flashing across his features.

“You dare?” he hisses, and ice crawls up the windows, the glass groaning under the pressure. “You challenge your king? Your own father?”

“I do,” I reply steadily. “If you refuse to clear your mind with the potion, then show the court that your judgment isn’t clouded. Prove you’re the king we need in this time of looming war.”

Sapphire’s fingers clamp around my arm, her nails digging into my skin.

“,” she whispers, her voice tight. “What are you doing?”

I don’t answer her. I can’t right now. This is hard enough to do to him, let alone to justify to her.

So, I keep my eyes locked on my father, the icicles around him shaking with lethal unpredictability, the massive windows cracking from the weight of the frost.

“The Trial of Frost and Blood,” he repeats slowly, as if testing the words on his tongue. “You challenge me for the right to rule?”

“I challenge you to prove you still can.”

The distinction is important. Because I’m not here to steal his crown. I’m giving him one last chance to hold onto it.

From there… well, we’ll deal with that when it comes to it.

“Very well,” he says at last, a cruel smile spreading across his face. “The Trial it is. Although you may regret this path, traitor prince. I taught you much, but not all I know.”

My jaw tightens, and I steady my breathing, picturing a layer of ice around my heart to stop it from burning. Because this isn’t just a fight for the court. It’s a fight for my soul. For the part of me that refuses to become him.

The Lonely King.

My father turns to Valerian.

“Stay back with five of your choosing to guard the Prince and Princess. The rest of you—gather every noble, every warrior, and every servant who can be spared.” He fixes his gaze on me again. “One hour, in the Frost Arena. Let the whole court see the fate of those who dare to defy me.”

With a sweep of his cloak, he strides from the throne room, icicles dropping from the ceiling and shattering on the marble floor in his wake. Guards peel off after him in hurried steps, careful to avoid the plummeting projectiles.

The moment they’re gone, Sapphire whirls to face me, her brilliant blue eyes wide with panic. “Are you insane?” she demands, water swirling around her in restless currents. “What even is this Trial? What did you just drag us into? What did you do?”

I exhale shakily, forcing steadiness into my tone. “The Trial of Frost and Blood is an ancient tradition,” I explain, keeping my voice low. “A formal combat. It’s the only way I can test my father’s ability to rule without being branded a traitor. It ends when one yields or—” I stop myself, but she finishes my sentence in a fearful hush.

“When one dies?”

“Death is rare.” I aim for reassurance, even though my chest clenches at the thought.

“Rare isn’t never,” she says, grabbing my shirt and pulling me close, her warmth burning through the carefully constructed ice around my heart. “, the vision—the one from the Cosmic Tides. You sitting alone on the Winter Throne, broken and empty. What if this is how it happens? What if you’re forced to kill him, and you become the Winter King?”

Her fear crashes over me through our bond, raw and desperate.

“I won’t kill him,” I promise, covering her hand with mine. “That’s not why I invoked the trial. I just need him to agree to drink the potion.”

“And if he doesn’t yield?” she presses. “If he forces you to make that choice?”

I pause as memories of my father’s training snap through my mind—every bruise, and every ice-sharpened warning. Because the truth is, I don’t know. My father has never been one to surrender.

“I’ll do everything I can to find another way,” I say, although it sounds hollow, even to my own ears. “I won’t become that version of myself. I promised you, remember? No matter what futures the Tides showed us, we forge our own path. Together.”

“This seems like the exact kind of path that could lead to that future,” she mutters, gathering herself enough to continue. “Let me help you. We can fight him together.”

I shake my head. “The Trial is one-on-one. Father against son, king against heir. If you interfere, the guards will kill you on the spot. And I won’t risk that. I won’t risk losing you.”

Not again. Not ever again.

I reach for her left hand, her magic warm against my skin. “I know what I’m doing, Sapphire,” I tell her, searching her eyes and tracing the mark on her palm, desperate for her to believe in me.

Because without her, I’m nothing.

Just when I fear she might move away from my touch, she shivers, her eyes softening.

“I trust you,” she says, and I relax slightly, grateful for her love. “I just don’t trust ancient fae traditions that involve combat with your mentally unstable father.”

Despite everything, I give her a half-smile. “That’s fair.”

Ghost nudges my leg, while Nebula presses against Sapphire.

“We should prepare,” I say, looking around at the guards in the throne room. “Word will spread like an avalanche. The arena will be packed. Every noble will want to witness the spectacle, hoping for a chance to curry favor with whoever emerges victorious.”

Sapphire nods, then steps closer, pressing her forehead to my chest. “Promise me something,” she says, her voice muffled against my shirt.

“Anything.”

She looks up, her eyes fierce with determination. “Promise that no matter what happens in the arena, you won’t become the Lonely King from the vision.”

My eyes flutter closed as I give her forehead a soft kiss, then pull away enough to meet her gaze. “I swear on every drop of magic I possess,” I whisper, tightening my hold on her, “that no matter what happens in that arena, I’m not going to lose you—or myself.”

She clings to me for a moment longer, then straightens, her water magic settling into calmer currents. “Then let’s make sure you’re ready to kick your father’s ass,” she says, her voice gaining a hard edge.

A surprised laugh escapes me. “That’s definitely the plan.”

We leave the throne room, Ghost and Nebula at our sides, as servants and guards rush by to spread the word. Already, I sense the murmurs through the palace halls—shock, excitement, and a hint of dread.

The Winter Court is about to witness something it hasn’t seen in centuries.

And I’m about to face everything my father ever taught me. Every icy lesson about control and emotionless perfection, and every brutal training session where weakness meant failure.

This isn’t just a fight for my father’s sanity.

It’s for everything I’ve become since meeting Sapphire—for this version of myself that feels, loves, and refuses to be the cold, hollow prince my father tried to forge me into.