Page 4 of Frozen Star (Star Touched: Fae Bound #7)

The Summer Court materializes around us in a vibrant burst of gold and emerald, the lush scenery and sweet floral scent overwhelming after the harshness of Central Park. Somehow, this place always feels bright, even at night.

Guards are already waiting, their polished armor gleaming, expressions impassive yet curious.

Sapphire reaches for my hand, but I pull away, ice creeping through my veins and crystallizing around my heart.

Touching her feels wrong now, like I’m stealing something precious that should belong to someone else.

Because all I can think about is what she told me about the Cosmic Tides—about the version of me who was happy.

The one who smiled easily, and who didn’t carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

It’s a version of me who never existed in this world, and who never could. Not after everything I’ve lived through. Not after everything I’ve done. Not after every death I’ve caused and every drop of blood staining my hands.

Yet, she chose me over him.

Why? As hard as I try to understand it, I can’t. Because if he offered her the peace and happiness she wants, why would she turn that down?

The questions burn inside me, frost racing up my arms as I struggle for control. I’m suffocating under the weight of my own silence, my magic desperate to lash out at something—anything—to keep from imploding.

“Princess Sapphire, Prince Riven,” one of the guards says with a deep bow. “Queen Lysandra awaits your presence in the throne room.”

I nod curtly, already moving forward, unable to look at Sapphire. The space between us is a chasm, even though physically we’re only inches apart. The other guard is speaking, but I don’t hear what he’s saying. It’s muffled by Sapphire’s words echoing in my head, playing on an endless loop.

We were different there. Softer, lighter, and more at peace.

Peace. The word slices into me sharper than any sword. Because I don’t know what peace feels like anymore. I don’t think I ever did.

“Riven,” Sapphire whispers, her hand reaching for mine.

I flinch back, as if her touch will burn me.

Hurt flashes across her face, her pain rushing through the bond, but I can’t touch her.

Not here, not now. Because whatever pain she’s feeling, mine is sharper, crueler, and more consuming.

I won’t push that darkness onto her through the bond.

I don’t want her to feel me tearing apart. She deserves better than that.

She deserves the version of me she saw there. The version of myself I wish I could be for her, but at the same time know I’ll never be.

Silently, we follow the guards through winding corridors of vines and flowering trees, the bond stretching thinner with each step, pulled taut by my withdrawal.

It’s not fair to her, but I can’t stop it.

I can’t forget the better version of me out there, who I know with certainty I’ll never be able to give her.

I can’t erase my past, I can’t erase what I’ve been through, and I can’t erase what I’ve done.

Especially because I know firsthand that the hollowness of having a part of who I am torn from my soul is worse than any pain imaginable.

I’d never do something like that again—to either of us.

I’m not sure we’d survive it. It’s a miracle we did the first time.

Around us, Summer Court nobles are gathering. They trail behind us, peering down from ivy-laden balconies, whispers spreading through the court.

“Where are the others?”

“The Summer warriors...”

“Only two returned…”

“Look at his face. Something happened.”

I should feel something about Maeris and Thalia not being with us, but I come up blank. Because all I care about is her— Sapphire. She’s alive and by my side. I’d let them die again if it meant keeping her with me, and I wouldn’t feel a shred of guilt over it.

The massive doors to the throne room open before us, revealing a space that seems too vast to exist within the confines of the palace.

Sunlight streams through windows overhead, casting rainbow patterns across marble floors.

At the far end sits Queen Lysandra on her throne of flowers and vines, her advisors grouped beside her.

Their eyes are on us, judgment mixing with curiosity and hope. They’re watching Sapphire as if she’s a goddess, their savior who’s returned victorious.

“Daughter,” Lysandra says. “Winter Prince.” Her eyes shift to me, cool and assessing, before returning to Sapphire. “You’ve returned with the Ember?”

Sapphire steps forward, and even though I can’t look directly at her, I feel her magic pulse—water swirling around her in elegant, controlled patterns.

She reaches into her satchel, withdraws the box, and opens it.

The Ember burns with ancient power, casting its molten glow across the throne room. Gasps rise from the gathered nobles, the orange light reflecting in their eyes.

“The Ember of Prometheus,” Sapphire announces, but beneath her poise, her heart is breaking. I feel it, sharp and painful, as clearly as my own. Probably because it also is my own. Our emotions no longer belong to us individually, but as a pair. Souls fused in a world of endless starlight.

Lysandra rises from her throne, descending the dais with fluid grace. “Well done, both of you,” she says, but her eyes narrow as she looks between us. “Where are Thalia and Maeris?”

“They gave their lives to secure the Ember,” I say, my voice colder than I intend. Everything in me is cold right now. Frozen, numb, and lifeless. “They died with honor, fulfilling their oath to the Summer Court.”

Murmurs of sorrow and shock ripple through the gathered nobles, but Lysandra silences them with a single raised hand.

The Summer Queen studies me for a long moment, and I don’t break her gaze.

“I see,” she finally says. “Their sacrifice will be honored.” She turns, signaling to the priestess standing quietly beside her throne.

“High Priestess Vela, the Ember will enter your possession from here. Begin your studies immediately. We need every advantage we can get before advancing on the Night Court.”

“Yes, my Queen.” The priestess steps forward, her robes shimmering like liquid gold, accepting the Ember from Sapphire’s hands.

I want to reach for those hands. My fingers twitch, craving her touch like a drug, but I stop myself.

I can’t. Not yet. Not until I understand why she chose the broken version of me over the one who could offer her peace and happiness. I need to understand, because without that understanding, I might tear myself apart from the inside out.

“Before you rest,” Lysandra says to us, motioning someone forward. “Fleur has something to show you.”

Fleur. The fae from the war room who presented us with the summer dagger she’d infused with winter magic so it could cause as much damage to night fae as possible. The dagger Sapphire then sliced in two in a demonstration of the Star Disc’s power.

The summer fae steps forward, holding an object carefully in both hands, concealed by a silk cloth. She bows to me, then turns to Sapphire.

“The dagger destroyed by your Star Disc.” She pulls back the cloth to reveal the blade—which is now in one piece. “It took considerable effort, but I created a potion that acted like glue to put it back together. It’s just as strong as before. There isn’t so much as a crack on it.”

Impressed murmurs ripple through the room.

Lysandra nods in approval. “You’ve done well, Fleur.”

My eyes remain fixed on the dagger, envying it for being glued back together so cleanly. If only I could repair my own cracks—the scars etched deep into my soul.

Lysandra’s eyes narrow. “Prince Riven?” she prompts, measured yet firm. “Is everything all right?”

No.

“It’s been a long journey,” I respond too quickly, snapping my attention back to her. “And a challenging one.”

“I’m sure it was.” Her gaze lingers on me, likely dissecting the half-truth. “Your chambers have been prepared. Return to them and rest. We’ll convene tomorrow to discuss strategy.”

I bow stiffly, the formal gesture automatic after decades of royal protocol. “Your Majesty,” I say, and she gives me a single nod.

One that I swear feels like a warning to not hurt her daughter more than I already have.