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The ice in my veins thrums with tension as noon approaches.

Sapphire stands at the mirror, adjusting the silver circlet nestled in her hair—a gift from my father after his return to sanity.

Her white-blonde waves cascade down her back, the blue streaks on the ends catching the light with every movement.

The deep sapphire of her dress mirrors her name, cut in the Winter Court style, but with subtle nods to her summer heritage.

The best of both worlds, just like her magic.

Just like her soul.

“Stop staring,” she says without turning, smiling at me in the mirror. “You’re making me nervous.”

“I can’t help it,” I tell her. “You look just like what you are—a princess.”

She turns, those blue eyes finding mine across the room, making every nerve in my body come alive. “Not just any princess,” she says. “ I’m your princess.”

My heart—the one she brought back from death—aches with fierce devotion. Because I will never get over how lucky I am to have her. Never.

Unfortunately, a glance at the clock shows me that I don’t have time to properly show her how much I appreciate her.

So, I hold my arm out to her, to brace her—and myself—for what’s coming next. “Ready to make history?” I ask, sounding far more at peace about leaving our winter paradise than I feel.

“As long as we’re making it together.” She slides her hand into the crook of my elbow, allowing me to lead her out into the hall.

As we step into the corridor, Nebula appears, padding to Sapphire’s side. The golden cheetah’s presence is new to the Winter Court, a splash of summer warmth against our eternal frost. And when she and Ghost find each other, their bond hums as strongly as mine and Sapphire’s.

Together, we make our way through the palace and out to the courtyard, ice and water magic trailing in our wake. Nobles in their finest furs line the path, their expressions a mix of curiosity and caution.

Not all of them are pleased with this alliance. There are those who would rather see Sapphire frozen in the tower than standing beside me. But none would dare speak against us after watching me defeat my father in the Frost Arena.

Six carriages wait at the center, their white wood carved with intricate frost patterns, twelve silver-white steeds hitched to the one in front.

Standing before it all, tall and regal in a way I haven’t seen in years, is my father.

King Nivian’s eyes—clear now, free of the madness that once clouded them—find mine, and the pride in them lands like a blade of ice to my ribs.

As we approach, my father raises his hands, and the murmurs of the court silence.

“Today,” he begins, his voice carrying across the courtyard with ease, “we witness not just a departure, but a beginning.” His magic swirls around him, ice crystals forming and dissolving in the air.

“For centuries, the Winter Court has stood alone against threats from beyond our borders. But the world is changing, and so must we.”

My grip tightens on Sapphire’s arm, feeling her tension through our bond.

“I present to you Prince Riven Draevor,” my father continues, “protector of the Winter Court, guardian of our traditions, and defender of our people.”

A ripple passes through the crowd. Because the title is no longer just a birthright—it’s earned .

“And Princess Sapphire Hayes Fairmont Solandriel Draevor,” he adds, turning to her with a formal nod. “Daughter of Queen Lysandra Solandriel of the Summer Court and King Damien Fairmont of the New York Vampire Clan, bride of my son, and by royal decree, Princess of the Winter Court.”

Her titles ripple like thunder through the assembly. She’s fae and vampire, summer and winter, mortal and divine. A walking revolution in sapphire silk.

I love her so much it hurts.

But amidst her titles, my father purposefully left out the whole “Star Touched by Celeste part.”

We’re keeping Sapphire’s goddess-given gift classified for the moment.

“Together,” my father continues, “the Prince and Princess will journey to the Summer Court to formalize our alliance against the darkness that threatens all fae. The Night Court has been stealing our own from our border, and their transgressions will not go unpunished.” He turns to face the assembled nobles, frost magic crackling around his fingertips.

“Any action against this alliance is an action against the Winter Throne itself.”

His eyes sweep the crowd, daring anyone to object.

No one does.

So, with a gesture, he signals for the farewell to commence .

The court bows in unison as Sapphire and I make our way toward the carriage in the center, with Ghost and Nebula by our sides.

Just as we’re about to board, my father’s hand falls on my shoulder.

“A moment,” he says quietly.

I glance at Sapphire, squeezing her hand once before releasing it. “I’ll be right there.”

She nods, understanding in her eyes, and climbs into the carriage, Nebula following close behind.

Ghost remains at my side as my father leads me a few steps away from the crowd.

For a moment, he simply looks at me, as if seeing me properly for the first time in years. The clarity in his eyes is almost unnerving.

“I remember the day you were born,” he finally says, his voice softer than I’ve heard it since my mother died. “Your mother held you and said you would be the strongest of us all.”

I say nothing, unsure how to respond to this sudden vulnerability. Because this isn’t the father who drove me to perfectionism, who beat me in combat training until I couldn’t stand, and who told me love was a weakness that would destroy me.

“I didn’t believe her then. I thought she was just being sentimental. But she was right—as she often was,” he says, a ghost of a smile touching his lips as he reaches into his cloak and withdraws a small blue, velvet box. “This belonged to her.”

My breath stills as he places it in my palm. The box is cold to the touch, preserved by what must be ancient magic. And whatever’s inside… the buzz of magic is so strong that I can feel it in my bones.

“Open it,” he urges, and I do.

Inside rests a compass unlike any I’ve ever seen. The face is made of polished moonstone, and instead of pointing north, its needle spins slowly in a steady circle, trailing frost in its wake.

“The Stillpoint Compass,” my father explains. “It was your mother’s most prized possession. It’s the twin of a compass hidden in the Summer Court—the Astral Compass.”

I stare at it, ice crystals forming in the air around us. “What does it do?” I ask, studying it closer, as if it can tell me itself.

“It freezes time,” he says, and I quickly look from the compass back to him.

“That’s not possible,” I say. Because freezing time… a power that strong is unheard of.

If he’s telling the truth, then why not use it earlier? Unless he has been using it for all these years? Although that wouldn’t make sense, since he certainly would have used it when we faced off in the Frost Arena…

“I’d demonstrate its capabilities, but you’re going to have to try for yourself when you need it, because the compass can only be used once per moon cycle,” he continues. “Set it out on the nights of the full moon, and it will recharge, ready for the next time you’ll need it.”

Well, I suppose that answers why he didn’t use it in the arena. It likely wasn’t “charged.” Otherwise, he surely would have used it to kill me before I had a chance to defend myself.

I’d like to think my father wasn’t that much of a monster, but it wouldn’t have been the first time his madness drove him into doing the unthinkable.

Because killing someone like that—while they’re frozen in time—isn’t an honorable kill.

It’s a slaughter. A cold-blooded execution.

It’s the sort of kill meant for a beast—not for a man.

“Why are you giving this to me now?” I eventually ask, choosing to keep my thoughts to myself. I can discuss those with Sapphire later in the carriage.

No one understands me like she does. No one ever will. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I’m not giving it to you as your king,” he says quietly. “I’m giving it to you as your father. One who finally sees his son.”

Something shifts between us—a crack in the ice that’s separated us for decades. It’s not forgiveness. Not yet. There are too many scars, too many years of pain and absence. But it’s a start .

“It’s an honor,” I say, the words inadequate, but all I can manage.

He nods once, understanding more than I say. And as I turn to leave, his hand catches my arm.

“Riven,” he says. “Your mother would be proud of the man you’ve become. Not because you defeated me—but because you did it without becoming me.”

The words hit harder than any blow he’s ever landed in combat.

I don’t trust myself to speak. So, I simply nod once, closing the lid and slipping the box into my pocket. And as I rejoin Sapphire at the carriage, the compass’s magic buzzes through me like a living thing.

I suspect she feels my tumult of emotions through our soul bond, but she doesn’t pry.

Instead, she simply takes my hand, her magic curling around mine in silent support as we step inside the carriage and get ready to head off.