After everything we’ve been through, how could he not believe me? How could he not feel the truth of my love through the bond?
All I know is that he doesn’t say he loves me back. He simply nods once, his shoulders straightening, his chin lifting as he faces the approaching Summer Court guards.
But through our bond, I feel that broken, desperate question still echoing between us:
Why didn’t you choose that perfect version of me?
RIVEN
The Summer Courtmaterializes 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 sawthere.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 Ican’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 isher—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?”
