Page 9 of Frozen Star (Star Touched: Fae Bound #7)

Almost three weeks.

That’s how long it’s been since Riven and I returned from the Pyros Vault and presented the Ember of Prometheus to the Summer Queen.

Soon afterward, we returned to the Winter Court for more war preparations.

In those three weeks, I’ve been pushing my magic to its limits in training. Learning to move in sync with Riven until our combined power feels seamless.

Tonight, we’re celebrating the alliance we sealed with our marriage—our union between Winter and Summer—in a dazzling, flower-and-frost-filled ballroom.

Ice sculptures twist toward the vaulted ceiling, and summer flowers bloom impossibly in winter air, their petals scattered across tables laden with delicacies from both courts.

It’s like something out of a fairytale. The Winter King is here, the Summer Queen is here, and they seem to be…

getting along. They even share a few knowing looks that make me wonder if maybe in their centuries of life, their experiences together haven’t all been terrible.

But no matter how brightly the lanterns glow, or how merrily the musicians play, an undercurrent of dread pulses through the festivities.

Because in two days, we’ll march upon the Night Court.

They talk around it, laugh a bit too loudly, and drink a bit too deeply, but the knowledge of what’s to come is always there, lurking beneath every forced smile and shared dance.

Riven hasn’t let go of my hand all evening. His eyes, silver and sharp, constantly scan the room—not out of concern for the courts, but for me. Only for me.

Finally, we get some breathing space in the corner of the ballroom.

“Let’s go,” he says, tugging me toward the exit.

I pause, my hand tightening in his. “We shouldn’t leave yet,” I say softly, scanning the crowd. “This is our party. They’ll notice we’re gone.”

“The party is to celebrate the alliance between courts—not to celebrate us,” he replies, his voice a low, rough whisper that sends a thrill down my spine.

“I’m done pretending I care about politics, or war, or anything else for that matter.

We have two days left before marching on the Night Court, and the only thing I care about doing in those two days is spending time with you.

Me and you, alone, like how we were in the Wandering Wilds when the world was shut out and we were all that mattered. ”

My heart stutters at the memories of our time together in that cave.

Because despite all the disagreements Riven and I had after we met—and there were a lot of them—when we got to the Wandering Wilds, everything changed.

Out there, we saw beyond the initial attraction, and into each other’s souls.

It was like we were in a perfect snow globe where nothing existed but us.

Well, and the monsters we had to fight, and the blizzards we had to traverse, but there was something magical about those memories.

Probably because it was there, in the Wandering Wilds, that we fell deeply in love.

But despite how tempting his offer is, I shake my head, hesitant. “We’ll have time for us later,” I tell him, although he does have a good point about the two remaining days not being nearly long enough. “After the party.”

His gaze softens, his silver eyes flashing in the lantern light as he pushes me against the wall, his body flush against mine. “Every moment matters now, Sapphire. We don’t know what’s waiting for us in two days. Every second I’m not alone with you feels wasted.”

Through our bond, I feel the depth of his desperation. It’s not just want—it’s fear. Fear that these stolen moments might be all we have left.

“Riven,” I whisper, my resolve already crumbling.

“Please.” The single word carries the weight of everything unsaid. “I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t smile and make small talk with nobles when all I want is to hold you and forget the world exists.”

I look around the ballroom one more time—at the fae laughing, drinking, and dancing in that graceful way only they can do.

At my mother conversing with King Nivian, their heads bent close in a way that looks a bit too intimate for a diplomatic discussion.

At the ice sculptures that will be removed and the summer flowers that will wither, leaving no trace of tonight’s forced celebration.

When I turn back to Riven, his eyes are burning with an intensity that makes my magic stir beneath my skin.

“But the alliance—” I start, already knowing this is a losing battle. How can I resist him when he’s looking at me like I’m the center of the universe?

“—is secure.” His fingers trail down my arm, leaving frost in their wake that melts into tiny droplets, glittering in the candlelight. “Tonight is ours, Starlight. Just ours.”

He threads his fingers through mine, and despite the skepticism nagging at the back of my mind, my resistance melts.

“Fine,” I whisper, unable to hide the small smile forming on my lips. “But if Lysandra sends a search party?—”

“Let them search.” He laughs, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “I know every hidden passage in this castle and every path in these woods. Trust me—they’ll never find us.”

“Then lead the way, Your Highness.” I smile for real this time, my resolve officially melted.

The moment we step into the hallway, the oppressive weight of performance lifts from my shoulders. Out here, it’s just Riven, me, and the frost lining the walls, casting everything in shades of blue and silver.

His knowledge of the palace’s back passages is evident in every turn. As we continue through them, his hand remains firm in mine, his magic settling with each step we take away from the ballroom.

Eventually, he leads me through a small door that opens into the winter night. Snow falls in lazy spirals, each flake glinting like scattered diamonds. And there, waiting in the courtyard as if they knew we’d come, are Ghost and Nebula.

Ghost stretches, his white fur gleaming silver in the moonlight, while Nebula pads over to me with fluid grace, her spotted coat rippling with each step. She nuzzles against my palm, her purr rumbling through my bones, while Ghost bumps his head against Riven’s shoulder in greeting.

“Did you call them?” I ask Riven, running my fingers through Nebula’s soft fur.

“I didn’t have to. They know us better than we know ourselves.” He moves to Ghost’s side and swings himself up with practiced ease. “So, what do you say, Starlight? Are you ready to run away from our responsibilities for a few hours?”

I look back at the palace, where light spills from countless windows, the distant sound of music drifting through the night air. Then I look at Riven, silhouetted against the star-filled sky on Ghost’s back, his silver eyes bright with mischief and desperate with longing.

The choice is easy.

I climb onto Nebula’s back, settling in like I’ve been doing this for my entire life. “Lead the way, Winter Prince,” I say, and we bolt into the forest, leaving the palace and politics behind, running away to a world that belongs only to us.