Page 9

Sapphire

The forest stretches around us in an endless maze of frost-covered trees and snowy paths glistening in the morning light.

As we walk, Riven coaches me through how to cast the spell on the bird. He quizzes me relentlessly, not resting until I know every detail of what I’m supposed to say, feel, and think.

Eventually, the forest thins, and Riven stops at its edge, scanning the area.

There are shrubs, a stream, and grass poking out of the snow.

“There,” he whispers, pointing at a dove perched on a low-hanging branch near the water.

It’s beautiful. Innocent.

The thought of what we’re about to do twists my stomach.

“How am I supposed to catch that?” I ask, glancing at Riven.

“You project,” he says simply. “Appear next to it. Catch it by surprise. Literally, and figuratively.”

I frown, since the memory of our argument about my vulnerability when I project is fresh in my mind.

“Sit down first,” he continues. “I’ll hold you, so you don’t collapse and scare it off. Unless you have a better idea that doesn’t involve me scooping your unconscious body off the ground for the second time tonight?”

“Fine,” I say, dropping to the ground near the stream. “But don’t you dare try anything. If you do, I’ll make sure you’ll regret it.”

“Is that a threat, Summer Fae?” he asks. “Or an invitation?”

I glare at him, heat rising to my cheeks. “It’s a promise.”

“Promise accepted.” He chuckles softly, lowering himself behind me. “Now, lean back.”

Not sure what other choices I have—and secretly liking this one—I sit down and let my back press against his chest. His arms wrap around me, firm and steady, and his breath is cool against my ear, the chill of the forest fading against the heat radiating between us.

My heart races, and I have to fight to keep my breathing even.

“Comfortable?” he asks, and from the slow way he says it, I have a feeling he’s as affected by this closeness as I am.

“Just don’t get any ideas,” I say, trying to focus on the dove rather than how close he is—or how his hands linger a second too long as he adjusts his grip.

“You’re the one whose heartbeat is giving us away, Summer Fae,” he says. “Are you sure I’m the one getting ideas?”

I don’t dignify that with a response. Instead, I steady my breath and focus on the dove. It’s still there, preening its feathers, unaware of what’s coming.

Here goes nothing.

One moment I’m wrapped in Riven’s embrace, and then I’m standing next to the dove.

It startles, but I’m faster, my hands closing around it before it can take flight.

Its heart hammers against my palms, wings fluttering frantically as I keep my hold on it.

That was easier than I thought it would be.

“Do you plan on coming back, or are you too busy making new friends?” Riven asks, and I look over at where he’s cradling my unconscious body in his arms.

As always, it’s unnerving to see myself lying there limply, looking dead.

No wonder he was so freaked out the first time he saw it happen.

“I’m bringing it over.” I walk slowly toward him, and he shifts his grip on my body, placing it gently on the ground as I approach.

When I’m close enough, I hand him the dove. His fingers brush mine as he takes it, and his gaze flickers, like he’s searching for something in my eyes—well, in my projected eyes.

“I have it,” he says, slow and steady. “You can let go now.”

Let go, I repeat in my mind, and I snap back into my body, my heart pounding as I regain my senses.

“Nice catch,” Riven says, watching me intensely as I sit up and adjust myself.

As if he’s making sure I’m actually alive.

“Now what?” I ask, even though I know exactly what comes next.

It’s the part I’ve been dreading.

The part I’ve been desperately trying to not think about.

“Now,” he says, glancing at his hands, where the dove is miraculously starting to relax. “You do the hard part.”

I’m frozen, unable to tear my gaze away from the bird.

I don’t want to do this.

But I have to do this.

For Zoey.

“Your dagger, Sapphire,” Riven reminds me, gentler than ever. “You need to use your dagger.”

I take it out, the blade feeling heavier than it should.

The dove coos softly, unaware of its fate.

“How do I…” I force myself to look away from the dove, meeting Riven’s gaze instead.

“Quick and clean,” he says. “Don’t hesitate, and it won’t feel a thing.”

I nod, gripping the blade tighter, and position myself beside the bird.

“Ready?” he asks, his voice steady.

I swallow hard. “Ready.”

And then, with one swift motion, I do it.

The scent of blood hits me like a storm.

Rich, sweet, and inviting.

I freeze, dagger still in hand as the aroma curls around me like smoke, weaving through my thoughts, drawing something dark and hungry out from inside me. My hands tremble, and I press my lips together, clenching my jaw so tightly it feels like my teeth might crack.

Not here. Not now. Not like this.

“Focus, Sapphire.” Riven’s voice cuts through the haze, cool and commanding as he collects the dove’s blood in the satchel. “Start the spell. Now.”

Right. The spell.

Forcing myself to concentrate, I cradle the bird and start chanting the spell he drilled into me earlier. The words feel strange on my tongue, but there’s power in them—power so strong that the air hums with energy.

“Feel the magic,” he coaches me through it. “Like you did with the potion.”

Focusing as hard as I can, I will my magic into the dove’s tiny body, praying to every god in the universe that this will work.

The blood glows, the spell taking hold, shimmering like liquid sunlight.

“Good.” Riven watches me intently, ready to intervene at the first sign of failure. It’s infuriating and comforting at the same time. “You’re doing great.”

The dove’s body grows cooler in my hands, the last of its blood dripping into the satchel.

I feel like a monster the entire time I watch. Because I did this. This delicate, beautiful creature is dead because of me.

Eventually—finally—there’s nothing left to come out.

Now, we wait.

I stare at the dove’s broken body, holding my breath, continuing to pray.

Nothing happens.

Panic flares in my chest.

Did I do it wrong? Did I?—

A soft coo breaks the silence.

The dove’s chest rises and falls, its wings fluttering as it looks up, as alive as when we first spotted it in the clearing.

Relief crashes over me like a tidal wave, and I lower my dagger, wiping the rest of the dove’s blood off on my pants.

“You did it,” Riven says, the intensity in his gaze making my stomach flip. “Do you have any idea how rare it is for someone to succeed with that spell on their first try?”

As he studies me, the space between us feels charged again—like a live wire humming with tension.

But we don’t have time for… whatever always happens between us when he looks at me like this.

There are far more important things for us to do right now.

“We need to get back to Zoey,” I say, pushing to my feet and breaking our connection.

Riven nods, back to looking as detached and as unimpressed as ever. “Right. Let’s go.”

He transfers the glowing satchel back into his pack, the dove watching him with curious, trusting eyes.

Then, as if wishing us luck, the dove spreads its wings and flies away.