At the last possible second, I snap back into my body.
When I push myself up to sit, Riven’s already in front of me, holding out his hand, offering to help me up. A layer of blood coats his skin, but now that the wound is healed, it doesn’t tempt me like it did when it was fresh.
I glare at him and stand, refusing to accept his assistance.
He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to. The heat in his gaze says everything.
He enjoyed this.
And, knowing Riven, I expect him to use it. To torture me with it. To prove that no matter how much I hate him, and nomatter how badly he’s already hurt me, he knows exactly how to control me.
But I can’t let him. I have to be stronger than that.
Lysandra taps a manicured finger against her throne, studying me with renewed interest. “That was enlightening,” she finally says. “Now, tell me about this projection ability.”
The abrupt change of subject throws me off balance, but I cling to her question, needing something to distract me from how I nearly pounced on Riven and gave him exactly what he wanted.
“My star touched ability is exactly what it looks like. Astral projection.” I jump into the explanation, continuing on to give Lysandra as many details as possible.
She listens attentively, letting me speak.
“So, you see,” I say when I’m finished. “I have enough power that I don’t need to marry Riven to convince the Winter Court to listen to us.”
“And yet,” Lysandra says, utterly unmoved, “my terms remain the same. Accept the prince’s proposal, or leave without the duskberry.”
A hollow pit forms in my stomach as my body turns against me, the ice magic from the deal stirring beneath my skin.
It’s slower this time. I assume it understands that it doesn’t have to kill me until sunrise, when I have to give Lysandra my answer. But it’s still there. Lingering. Reminding me what’s to come if I refuse the queen’s offer.
The deal’s magic will win. It always does.
“Fine,” I say, unwilling to put myself through the pain of nearly freezing to death again. “I accept Riven’s proposal.”
The ice magic recedes.
I can’t bring myself to look at Riven. I want to sink into the floor as it is, so the smug expression he surely has on his face right now will make me want to die on the spot.
“Excellent,” Lysandra says with a triumphant smile. “The ceremony will be held tomorrow—privately, of course. And once the marriage is complete…” she emphasizes those last words carefully. “You’ll have your duskberry.”
