Sapphire steps forward, and even though I can’t look directly at her, I feel her magic pulse—water swirling around her in elegant, controlled patterns.
She reaches into her satchel, withdraws the box, and opens it.
The Ember burns with ancient power, casting its molten glow across the throne room. Gasps rise from the gathered nobles, the orange light reflecting in their eyes.
“The Ember of Prometheus,” Sapphire announces, but beneath her poise, her heart is breaking. I feel it, sharp and painful, as clearly as my own. Probably because it alsoismy own. Our emotions no longer belong to us individually, but as a pair. Souls fused in a world of endless starlight.
Lysandra rises from her throne, descending the dais with fluid grace. “Well done, both of you,” she says, but her eyes narrow as she looks between us. “Where are Thalia and Maeris?”
“They gave their lives to secure the Ember,” I say, my voice colder than I intend. Everything in me is cold right now. Frozen, numb, and lifeless. “They died with honor, fulfilling their oath to the Summer Court.”
Murmurs of sorrow and shock ripple through the gathered nobles, but Lysandra silences them with a single raised hand.
The Summer Queen studies me for a long moment, and I don’t break her gaze.
“I see,” she finally says. “Their sacrifice will be honored.” She turns, signaling to the priestess standing quietly beside her throne. “High Priestess Vela, the Ember will enter your possession from here. Begin your studies immediately. We need every advantage we can get before advancing on the Night Court.”
“Yes, my Queen.” The priestess steps forward, her robes shimmering like liquid gold, accepting the Ember from Sapphire’s hands.
I want to reach for those hands. My fingers twitch, craving her touch like a drug, but I stop myself.
I can’t. Not yet. Not until I understand why she chose the broken version of me over the one who could offer her peace and happiness. I need to understand, because without that understanding, I might tear myself apart from the inside out.
“Before you rest,” Lysandra says to us, motioning someone forward. “Fleur has something to show you.”
Fleur. The fae from the war room who presented us with the summer dagger she’d infused with winter magic so it could cause as much damage to night fae as possible. The dagger Sapphire then sliced in two in a demonstration of the Star Disc’s power.
The summer fae steps forward, holding an object carefully in both hands, concealed by a silk cloth. She bows to me, then turns to Sapphire.
“The dagger destroyed by your Star Disc.” She pulls back the cloth to reveal the blade—which is now in one piece. “It took considerable effort, but I created a potion that acted like glue to put it back together. It’s just as strong as before. There isn’t so much as a crack on it.”
Impressed murmurs ripple through the room.
Lysandra nods in approval. “You’ve done well, Fleur.”
My eyes remain fixed on the dagger, envying it for being glued back together so cleanly. If only I could repair my own cracks—the scars etched deep into my soul.
Lysandra’s eyes narrow. “Prince Riven?” she prompts, measured yet firm. “Is everything all right?”
No.
“It’s been a long journey,” I respond too quickly, snapping my attention back to her. “And a challenging one.”
“I’m sure it was.” Her gaze lingers on me, likely dissecting the half-truth. “Your chambers have been prepared. Return to them and rest. We’ll convene tomorrow to discuss strategy.”
I bow stiffly, the formal gesture automatic after decades of royal protocol. “Your Majesty,” I say, and she gives me a single nod.
One that I swear feels like a warning to not hurt her daughter more than I already have.
SAPPHIRE
As we makeour way to our chambers, I feel Riven through our bond—his pain, sharp and jagged, his confusion spiraling into something dangerous. The frost patterns racing up his arms have intensified, tiny ice crystals forming and shattering with each breath he takes.
He refuses to look at me, but there’s no hiding anything from each other anymore. We gave that up when we sacrificed ourselves for each other in the Tides—when he gave me all his blood, and I gave him my soul. And now, every time I so much as breathe, I feel the weight of him unraveling like ice cracking beneath the surface of a frozen lake, about to collapse under its own pressure.
When the guards leave us at our door, Riven pushes it open without a word and steps inside. I follow, my heart pounding, water swirling around my fingertips as I look around.
While we were gone, the room was redecorated to give nods to the Winter Court along with the Summer Court. The massive four-poster bed is now draped in ice-blue silk, flowering vines climbing over the wood. Moonstone and amber fixtures cast a gentle glow over everything, neither too warm nor too cold.
