Page 37

RIVEN

Triumph surges through me, as cold as the ice coating the arena floor.

I could end this now. I could end him.

But then, like a spark of warmth in the ice, Sapphire’s presence rushes through our bond. Her hope. Her fear. Her plea before I stepped into the arena.

Promise me you won’t become the Lonely King.

I said yes. And I will never betray my word to her. I will never lose her trust.

So, I lower my voice, keeping it steady through the adrenaline.

“You are no longer fit to rule,” I say to my father, the crossed blades at his throat catching the light, glinting with deadly promise. “But I’m not going to kill you right now.”

He jerks against the blades, but I press them tighter, applying just enough pressure to remind him who holds the power.

Cold, deadly whirlpools swirl in his eyes.

“You claim you haven’t been turned,” he says, frost curling around him—frost I melt with heated air. “Yet, you’re using air magic against me. Vampire magic. But at the same time, you’re not a night fae. Your eyes aren’t black, and your wings aren’t spread wide for all to see.” His smile twists with fevered certainty. “No… it’s worse than that. You’re one of them. You’re a Revenant.”

The single word echoes across the ice.

Murmurs ripple through the crowd. Nobles rise to their feet, their expressions shifting from awe to horror.

I have to end this—now. Before the entire Winter Court turns on their prince.

“I am not a Revenant,” I declare. “My air magic did not come from the Night Court, nor did it come from Ambrogio and the Blood Coven.”

The crowd quiets again.

Thank the gods the fae can’t lie.

My father’s brow furrows, confusion battling the madness. Doubt clouds his expression.

And I use it. I offer him—and the entire court—the truth.

“My water and air magic came from my wife,” I say, turning to the royal box, where Sapphire stands frozen, her hand poised at her cloak, ready to grab the Star Disc at a moment’s notice. “Princess Sapphire Hayes Fairmont Solandriel Draevor, daughter of Queen Lysandra Solandriel of the Summer Court and King Damien Fairmont of the New York Vampire Clan.”

“Impossible.” My father twitches, and I press the blades deeper—not enough to kill, but enough to remind him of his place.

My heart races, a storm of terror and determination gathering in my chest.

Don’t make me do this, I pray to any god who might care about the outcome of this battle. Don’t push me to become the broken, empty shell I’ll be if I’m forced to take his crown.

Because one word from my father would allow the guards to kill me. And while I’m powerful, my odds of surviving against everyone in this arena is slim to none.

But with a calculated swipe of my blade?

The crown will be mine, and the Winter Court will answer to me.

So, I call on my air magic, heating the blades, watching my father’s skin sizzle under the metal.

He screams—a raw, harrowing sound that chills me to the core.

When he gets control over himself, I speak louder, seizing the stunned silence.

“Sapphire and I are more than just husband and wife. Our souls are bound,” I say, making sure my voice reaches even the highest of the stands. “With that bond, I gained her magic—air and water—and she gained my ice.”

My father trembles beneath the blades, fury warring confusion, but I refuse to release my hold.

“Sapphire and I are one,” I continue, speaking to my father now instead of the court. “We’re not corrupted, and we’re not turned. We’re chosen by the gods themselves . And we will lead the Winter and Summer Courts to victory against the Night Court, if you swallow your pride and drink the potion.”

Ice erupts from his fingertips, shooting upward in jagged spikes.

I melt it with a blast of heated air, keeping my burning blades at his throat.

“If you drink it, I’ll let you live,” I tell him as I sheathe one sword, my other pressed hot against his throat as I reach into my cloak and withdraw the vial.

I hold it before him, careful to keep it out of his reach. In his madness, he might crush it simply to spite me, and everything Sapphire and I journeyed to the ends of the universe for will be lost.

“It’s the same potion she was trying to create before she died,” I say, uncorking the vial with my thumb, not needing to specify who she is. “She thought it would help her see clearly through her emotions. But she couldn’t get the last ingredient, and she drank it before it was ready. And then, as we both know, it killed her. However, with the help of the Summer Court, I finished it—for you. To give you the clarity she sought.”

Something in his expression breaks as he studies the potion.

And then, suddenly, he breaks.

“Maybe I deserve to share her fate.” He releases a strangled laugh, his eyes glistening with madness and grief. “To have it burn through me and silence the noise. Maybe that’s the only way I’ll be free.”

My heart twists. Because for all his cruelty, he loved her. And losing her broke something inside him so deeply that not even the weight of his crown or the strength of his power could fix it.

“You don’t have to join her,” I say quietly, refusing to let him escape into his madness again. “You can honor her instead.”

“Honor her?” He barks a bitter laugh. “I dishonored her every time I told her to harden her heart. I killed her long before the potion did.”

I tighten my grip on my sword’s hilt, knowing far too well what it feels like to be pushed to turn my heart to ice.

“You didn’t kill her,” I say firmly, pressing the blade harder against his skin. “You lost her—and you punished yourself and me ever since.”

His body shakes as he stares up at me, like he’s begging me to understand.

“Let it burn me from the inside,” he says, his voice breaking, reminding me of myself when I thought I’d lost Sapphire forever. “Let it tear me apart the way I tore her apart. Maybe then, when I lie frozen beneath the ice, I’ll see her face again… and she won’t turn away.”

“Or maybe you could become the king she wanted you to be.” I swirl the potion in the vial, as if doing so can tempt him.

He squeezes his eyes shut, a tear freezing on his cheek.

A tear.

One that means everything.

“Live in a way that would have made her proud,” I continue, holding the vial steady. “Because I can assure you—the potion has been brewed correctly this time. I can’t think of a single reason why it wouldn’t give you the clarity I’m promising.”

His fingers twitch. A telltale sign of his madness.

A slow, painful breath shudders out of him.

And then, finally… he nods.

“Very well,” he says, the words barely audible. “I’ll drink your clarity. But I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for her.”