Page 38 of Frozen Star (Star Touched: Fae Bound #7)

Eros circles us, studying us from every angle. I can almost feel him peering into the bond, examining the tangled threads of our souls. It’s unnerving, but I stay as still as I can, unwilling to let him see how much he’s affecting me.

I have the upper hand after obliterating his divine weapon, and I’m not going to lose it.

“Fascinating,” he murmurs, more to himself than to us. “You performed a miracle and created something beautiful and terrible at the same time.”

“Will you help us?” I ask, unable to keep the anxiety from my voice. Not because I’m worried there’s no way for him to help us, since Riven and I know from the research we conducted these past two weeks that Eros can help us.

The question is— will he?

Finally, the god stops his circling. “Yes,” he says simply. “I can help you.”

His words take me by so much surprise that I swear the entire world stills for a moment. They’re what I hoped he would say, but I suppose I didn’t expect him to agree so easily.

Then again, like Riven said in the Night Court—I’m pretty badass and intimidating with my Star Disc.

“Your issue can be fixed with my blood,” Eros continues, lifting his wrist, “given willingly. In this case, the only way I’ll give it willingly is if you repair my bow first.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You’re assuming I can repair it.”

“I’m assuming you’re not stupid enough to enact revenge on a god without being able to fix what you’ve broken, and without having an ulterior motive. Otherwise, you’re two of the most foolish fae I’ve ever encountered. And say what they will about your kind, but fae are rarely foolish.”

Frost spreads from Riven’s feet toward some of the vines in the garden, freezing the life straight out of them. “I’ll propose the terms,” he says, his voice quickly taking on the formal precision of a Winter Court negotiation.

Eros arches a golden eyebrow. “The afflicted one offers the terms? A bold choice.”

“The terms are simple.” Riven ignores the jab.

“Sapphire will repair your bow, restoring it so it functions exactly as it did before she broke it. No exceptions, and no tricks. In exchange, you’ll use your blood, freely given, to rebalance the love that was changed when Sapphire saved my life in the Cosmic Tides. ”

“Rebalance,” Eros repeats, testing the word. “That’s rather vague for a fae bargain, Winter Prince.”

“I wasn’t finished yet.” Riven’s voice drops lower, each word measured, precise, and planned.

“You’ll use your divine blood to remove the soul-consuming aspect of our bond, without diminishing or making us forget our love for each other.

You’ll restore equilibrium between us so neither soul overwhelms the other.

You’ll ensure that I remain myself—Riven Draevor—capable of loving Sapphire Hayes Fairmont Solandriel Draevor with my whole heart, while maintaining my own identity, my own thoughts, my own will, and my own life. ”

I feel the weight of his words, the careful construction that leaves no room for loopholes or tricks.

“Furthermore,” he continues, “you’ll remove any potential lingering effects of the lead arrow.

You’ll also ensure that the rebalancing causes no harm to either of us, physically or emotionally, and creates no new bonds, debts, or obligations beyond what naturally exists between two people who love each other. ”

Eros tilts his head, his golden eyes gleaming with grudging respect. “You’ve thought this through.”

“I have. And there’s one final condition,” Riven adds. “The rebalancing must be permanent. No temporary fixes that will fade over time, no hidden triggers that could undo it, and no secret conditions.”

Eros considers for a long moment, his fingers tracing the broken pieces of his bow, and looks at me. “In return, you’ll repair my bow completely, restoring all its divine properties and powers.”

“Yes,” I confirm. “To the best of my ability with the potion I possess.”

The one the summer fae—Fleur—developed in the war room after I broke her dagger with the Star Disc.

“You’ll repair the bow first. I’ll supply my blood after,” he says, and it’s a demand, not a question.

I glance at Riven, who nods, and then I turn back to Eros.

“I’ll repair the bow first,” I confirm.

“Then I accept your terms. My blood for the rebalancing, exactly as the Winter Prince described it, in exchange for the restoration of my bow.”

Relief washes through me, but I keep my expression controlled.

“There’s just one more detail to finalize,” he adds, a sly smile spreading across his unnervingly perfect face. “Shall we seal our bargain with a kiss?”

Riven stiffens, frost crackling along his arms, but I squeeze his hand reassuringly.

“Not a chance in hell,” I reply, my tone light but firm.

Eros places a hand over his heart, his wings fluttering behind him. “Your loss, Star Touched. No kiss can ever compare with one from the god of love himself.”

I can’t help but laugh at his wounded vanity. “No kiss can compare to one with my soulmate,” I counter, leaning into Riven’s side and extending my hand toward Eros, water swirling around my skin. “We’ll seal the deal the old-fashioned way—with a handshake.”

Eros sighs dramatically, but he sets down the fragments of his bow and moves toward us. “Your loss,” he says to me, although luckily, he doesn’t argue further.

“You’ll each repeat the terms,” Riven says, and then he speaks them out loud for us to repeat, as if we’re at a marriage ceremony performing our vows.

Eros keeps his golden eyes locked on mine the entire time. It’s uncomfortable, but I remain still, unflinching, meeting his steady gaze with my own.

When we’re done, Eros and I clasp hands, and I release my magic.

Water surges from my palm, crystallizing as frost joins it, forming an intricate, glowing pattern that wraps around our joined hands.

Slowly, the magic climbs up our arms, twines around our wrists and forearms, and sinks beneath our skin.

It feels like plunging into an icy lake, exhilarating and intense, Eros’s divine energy mingling with mine in a swift, undeniable rush.

And as the final spark of magic slips beneath our skin, I breathe in sharply, feeling it settle deep within me.

A promise etched into my soul, undeniable and permanent.

Eros draws his hand out of mine and flexes his fingers, looking both impressed and irritated. “Fascinating,” he admits. “I feel it like a living contract written into my very essence.”

“You’ve never made a deal with a fae before?” I ask, surprised.

“I’m a god.” He scowls, as if we weren’t already aware of his divine status. “Of course I’ve never done something as mundane as making a deal with a fae.”

“First time for everything.” Riven smirks. “And trust me—Sapphire knows how to have a good first time. And a second, and a third, and… well, you get the picture.”

Eros narrows his eyes at Riven, then turns to me. “Is he always this insufferable?” he asks.

“Usually worse.” I roll my eyes dramatically. “But that’s half his charm.”

“Half?” Riven arches a brow. “Clearly, I’m slipping. I usually aim for at least seventy-five percent.”

“Careful, Winter Prince, or you’ll freeze your charm rating entirely,” I reply, although my flushing cheeks as I drink in the sight of him likely betrays the heat scorching my veins.

From the way his eyes dilate, I know he’s feeling the exact same way.

Eros’s amused expression vanishes as his attention snaps back to the broken fragments of his bow. “Enough of your lovers banter,” he says sharply, all trace of humor gone from his voice. “Fix my bow. Now.”

The sudden shift in his demeanor reminds me that for all his flirtation and wounded vanity, he’s still a god—ancient, powerful, and dangerous. And right now, he’s a god whose most prized possession lies in divine pieces on the ground because of me.

“Of course.” I kneel and reach into the leather satchel at my hip, my fingers closing around the vial Fleur prepared, the potion glimmering like the summer sun.

The moment I remove the stopper, its sweet scent fills the air.

“What is that?” Eros shifts, not bothering to hide his curiosity.

“A gift from the Summer Court’s master weaponsmith and potions maker,” I explain, turning the vial in my hands. “After I sliced her enchanted dagger in two with the Star Disc, she developed this to repair magical weapons.”

“I really need to have a word or two with Celeste about how much power she gave you with that Star Disc,” Eros mutters, glaring at the weapon.

“You know each other?” I ask.

“We’re gods.” He scoffs. “We’ve existed for thousands of years, and we’ve all been around the block a few times. Especially Zeus. He’s remarkably talented at?—”

“Enough,” Riven interrupts, although he’s focused on me, his silver eyes burning with a desire that I’ve seen many, many times.

“After watching that handshake, I’m fighting an increasingly intense urge to show Eros that you’re mine,” he says, and my gaze drops lower, where I see exactly how large that urge is.

“Fix the bow. Then we can get the blood sharing over with, so I no longer feel compelled to tempt you into joining the Eros’s Twisted Love Garden Club with a god as our witness. ”

“A club.” Eros’s eyes glimmer with amusement. “Can I join as well?”

“Shut up,” Riven and I snap at him at the same time.

He holds his hands up in mock innocence. “Message received. But you’re both missing out,” he says, refocusing on me. “Now, do what your lover commands and fix my bow.”

Pressing my lips together, I pick up the first two fragments of the bow, somehow resisting the urge to tell Eros that Riven is far more than my lover.

The weapon’s edges are cleanly severed. So, I pour the potion on each broken end, coating them carefully and pressing them together like I’m repairing a fragile object with superglue.

There’s a golden flash, and the pieces fuse, leaving no trace of the fracture behind.

Eros’s eyes light up. “Very good, Star Touched. Keep going.”

“Given that we just made a fae bargain, I don’t have much of a choice,” I tell him, and his eyes remain locked on my hands as I repeat the process with each fragment.

It’s like solving a three-dimensional puzzle. And as the final piece seals into the bow’s elegant curve, magic pulses outward, a golden ripple shimmering through the air.

“Done.” I exhale softly, holding the restored weapon out to the god.

He snatches it immediately, examining every inch of it for imperfections.

I can barely breathe as I wait for his assessment.

“Impressive,” he finally says, his fingers tracing the weapon’s seamless, unblemished surface.

Riven steps closer to my side, hovering protectively over me. “I told you that Sapphire doesn’t disappoint,” he says, his voice full of smug satisfaction. “Now, it’s your turn. Your blood freely given, to rebalance our bond, exactly as we agreed.”