Page 48 of Lana Pecherczyk

“You’re a clever doggy. You’ll figure it out.” River’s dry grin never reached his eyes. He gripped Aspen’s shoulders, fingers digging into the prince’s flesh. “Let’s go.”

They vanished—no flash, no sound, just absence where bodies had stood.

“What the flying fuck?” Blake’s shriek pierced the sudden emptiness as she jabbed a finger at the vacant space. “Did you all see that?”

“Aspen and I can portal ourselves with whatever we’re touching,” Jasper explained, struggling to tuck daggers into his belt, the weapons clinking against each other.

“Is it safe?” Her heart hammered against her ribs. “Of course, it’s safe. You said it’s safe, right?”

Near the palace, Ada cupped her mouth and shouted, “You’ll be fine!”

Having secured River’s arsenal, Jasper wrapped an arm around Blake’s shoulders. His grip steadily tightened. “Here we go.”

One moment, she stood in the Summer Palace’s lush gardens. Next, her insides twisted like wrung laundry. Purple wildflowers blurred into being beneath her, and her stomach heaved. She doubled over, struggling to stay on her feet, but the pot in her hands felt like a support to lean on.

“Oh god.” She gagged. “Not again.”

Through the rush of blood in her ears, she heard weapons thudding against the dirt behind her. Then the jingle of glass coins rattled.

“Why are you returning it?” Aspen’s wary voice drifted from somewhere to her right as she fought another wave of rising nausea. “You won the bet.”

“Yes, and now I’m paying you for your portaling service.” River’s velvet tone sharpened to a razor’s edge. “Does the kid know anything about commerce?”

“Consider yourself lucky, Aspen,” Jasper replied, amused.

The two dematerialized an instant later.

A gust of wind smelling like ozone staggered Blake, sending fresh waves of nausea through what felt like displaced cells. She lost the battle with gravity, and her knees hit damp earth. Bile rose in her gullet. She set down the plant, shifted the satchel, and braced for vomitageddon.

Footsteps approached. Instead of mockery, gentle fingers swept her hair back from her face. River’s fingertips were cool against her fevered skin as she puked her guts out.

“The nausea will pass soon.” His voice anchored her to reality. “Let it out if you need to.”

River had helped like this when they first met. How had she forgotten that kindness? In ten years of marriage, Jeff had never shown such care. When Blake was sick, he’d simply turn up the TV volume to drown out her retching.

It was infuriating that she continued to make these connectionsafterJeff had dumped her. Why hadn’t she seen them sooner?

He’s one of the good guys,Trix had said about River.

Blake hadn’t believed it, but she’d glimpsed warmth breaking through his prickly exterior more than once. Reclaiming the coinchest hadn’t been selfish after all. He’d simply returned it to the prince after a bet, one that the king considered a lucky lesson.

When her stomach finally settled and her brain stopped swimming, Blake sat back on her haunches, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. River crouched before her, eyes filled with concern.

“You good?”

She groaned. “Two feet and a heartbeat.”

“That’s … a weird answer, but okay. Take a deep breath.”

She obeyed, focusing on his continued soothing words.

“Inhale slowly. Then exhale. Good.”

His praise washed over her, leaving her skin tingling in ways that had nothing to do with portaling sickness. She offered him a grateful smile.

His intense stare held for a heartbeat longer before he nodded and retrieved his scattered weapons. The new landscape beckoned—rolling hills dotted with wildflowers stretching toward a distant forest—but she couldn’t tear her gaze from River as he twisted and cached daggers around his body with practiced efficiency.

The dynamic between them had shifted.