Page 23

Sapphire

The next morning comes too quickly.

I wake up to the rustling of fabric, sitting up as the flap of the tent opens.

Riven.

There’s no smirk this time. No trace of the predator he usually is. Instead, there’s a deadly calmness to him as he steps inside, closes the flap behind him, and uses his magic to create an ice barrier along its fabric that will stop his knights from listening in on whatever he came in here to tell us.

Zoey stirs beside me, sees Riven, and shoots upright.

“What do you want?” I ask him, not in the mood for games.

“You look well,” he says to me in approval. “The meal I provided for you last night seems to have satiated you more than you claimed it would. ”

“I was definitely satiated last night.” I keep my gaze locked on his, unwilling to let him get to me. “But it wasn’t from anything provided by you.”

“I’m sure that whatever satisfied you last night was a poor substitute for what I could have provided.” His eyes flash with amusement, that conceited smirk appearing on his face once again.

“Doubtful,” I shoot right back. “I prefer my men without a side of arrogance and blackmail.”

This only succeeds in making him take another step toward me, challenging me, trying to back me into a corner.

I don’t let him—even though it means there’s less than a foot between us now.

“You wound me, Summer Fae,” he says smoothly, his voice dripping with that practiced charm of his. But there’s also a darkness behind it—a dangerous edge warning me not to go too far. “But let’s not pretend you’re not enjoying our little games.”

“Games imply there’s a chance you can win,” I reply, even though the tension buzzing between us is so hot that it could melt the wall of ice he created around the tent.

“I’ll win when I choose to win,” he says confidently. “For now, I’m enjoying watching you squirm.”

Then, Zoey huffs, drawing our attention to her.

“Can we skip the foreplay and get to the part where you tell us why you’re here?” she snaps at Riven, surprising him so much that he steps away from me.

He must not have been expecting a human to be so outspoken.

Which means he has a lot to learn about Zoey.

Keeping his focus on her, he pulls something from his coat’s inner pocket and holds it out. “The trials begin within the next hour, and you need to be prepared,” he says. “This is for you.”

A small, light gold amulet with glowing runes etched into its surface.

“It’s an amulet of warmth,” he explains. “It won’t make you invincible to the cold, but it will help. You’ll be able to endure the conditions of the far ends of the Winter Court for longer than a human could survive otherwise.”

Zoey stares at it, although she doesn’t take it. “So, you meant it when you said you wanted to help us?” she asks him, shooting me a clear I told you so look before refocusing on him.

She frustratingly doesn’t hate him as much as I do.

But it’s only because he hasn’t tried to trick her, seduce her, and use her.

At least, not yet.

“I want you to survive,” he tells her. “Simply because as long as you’re alive, I can use you to get Sapphire to do what I want. ”

Now it’s my turn to shoot Zoey an I told you so look.

“Take it,” I tell her, since as much as I hate it, the amulet could end up being the only thing that’ll stop her from freezing to death. She’s already too pale, and we haven’t even started the trials yet.

She gives me a small nod, then reaches for the amulet and slips the chain over her head.

“Hide it under your shirt,” Riven tells her. “If my knights see it, all bets will be off. But as a warning, it won’t last forever. Think of it like a charged phone battery. Eventually, it’ll run out of juice.”

In this magical kingdom of his, it’s strange to hear him talk about something as human as a phone. But it’s also a reminder that he’s been to my world. He knows where I’m trying to get back to. It’s like he’s the string tying his world and mine together, and as much as I hate it, he does feel a bit like a lifeline.

Zoey tucks the stone under her shirt, and Riven turns to me, pulling something else from his pocket. A small, smooth, silver stone, with lines running through it like cracks in ice.

“For you,” he says simply. “It’s called a whisper stone. It allows you to communicate with me during the trials. Just speak into it—preferably at a whisper, so no one else can hear—and you’ll be able to reach me.”

“So, this is the fae version of giving me your number?” I can’t help but joke, despite the seriousness of the situation.

“Think of it more as a lifeline,” he says, twirling the whisper stone between his fingers. “Though, knowing you, you’ll probably only use it when you’re desperate.”

I don’t want to take the stone. It feels too much like another way for him to control me. But the practical side of me—the part that wants to survive—knows I’ll need every advantage I can get. Even if it comes from him.

With a sigh, I snatch the stone from his hand, the cool surface oddly soothing in my palm. “Fine,” I say, shoving it into my pocket. “But don’t hold your breath waiting for a call.”

“I never wait.” He chuckles softly, stepping back with that infuriating confidence of his. “I just prepare for when you come to your senses.”

“I suppose being fae means you have an eternity to waste,” I tell him, even though the whisper stone does have the potential to be useful.

Assuming he’ll use it to guide us instead of to trick us into a painful death.

“Assuming you survive the trials, you have an eternity now, too,” he says—a sharp reminder of the fact that I haven’t thought much about what my life will look like after getting out of the Winter Court. “Plenty of time for you to stop fighting the inevitable.”

Zoey crosses her arms, frowning as she watches us .

Unfortunately, before I can think of something snarky to throw back at Riven, he steps aside and gestures for us to follow. “Now, if you’re done stalling, it’s time for your first trial,” he says, and the icy wall around the tent melts, allowing the three of us to exit.

Zoey and I exchange a look, then step out of the tent.

The lake shimmers under the early morning light, its surface reflecting the sky like a perfect, deadly mirror.

It reminds me so much of the lake Zoey fell into when we were kids that I can practically see the two of us as children in the center of it, me reaching for her beneath the surface to save her from a frozen, watery death.

As I’m staring out at it, one of the knights approaches us.

“All is well, Your Highness?” he asks Riven.

“Better than expected,” he says with a low chuckle. “Breaking their spirits before the trials is half the fun. Now, let’s see how much more they can bend before they snap.”

He and his knights make their way to the edge of the lake, and we follow, knowing we don’t have much else of a choice.

Zoey walks unnervingly slowly—timidly—beside me.

She hasn’t stepped foot in a body of water since falling through the ice that day. Not even to go into a pool. Or a hot tub. Or even a bath .

I reach for her hand, squeezing it, trying to give her strength.

She doesn’t acknowledge me. The only thing she’s focused on is the lake, its icy surface unnaturally smooth. Like it’s something out of a dream—or a nightmare.

Once we’re at the edge of the lake, Riven turns to one of his knights—the tallest one with blond hair, who seems to be higher ranked than the rest of them.

“Time to give them their weapons,” he says.

“Really?” Zoey asks. “You’re going through all this trouble to put us through these death trials, and you’re giving us weapons?”

“Your deaths will come too quickly otherwise,” he says simply. “Given that we came all the way out here, we should at least be able to watch you suffer.”

I want to ask if that’s why he gave us the amulet and whisper stone—to get more of a kick out of what we’re about to go through. But I know better than to reveal that information to the knights.

Riven nods to the blond-haired knight, who reaches into his weapons belt and pulls out two daggers. There’s nothing ornate or magical about them. They’re weapons, but I have a gut feeling they’re not enchanted ones. Just cold, hard steel.

He hands one to Zoey first.

She takes it, testing the weight in her hand, turning it over as if she’s handled one before .

“You’re looking at that thing like you know how to use it,” I tell her.

“Dad taught me a little when I helped him whittle wood.” She grips the handle tighter, her eyes focusing with just as much seriousness as they did on the day in gym class when she was preparing to attempt a complicated back handspring twist dismount off the balance beam.

She succeeded, of course. She always does.

Zoey’s still studying her dagger when the knight steps forward and offers me mine.

I’ve never held a weapon before—minus the icicle I used to kill that deer—so its weight is unfamiliar. Heavy in a way that makes my arm feel awkward. And I’m not a natural at gripping it like Zoey apparently is.

Standing there, staring down at the blade, the reality of what we’re about to face sinks in. I have no idea what kind of trial we’ll be up against, but one thing’s clear—I’m out of my depth.

And I haven’t even jumped into the lake.