SAPPHIRE
The second myhead breaks the surface, a black hole forms in my chest. An emptiness so wide it physically hurts. My mind scrambles, reaching, searching for something, but all I’m aware of is the sharp sting of cold air on my face and?—
Riven’s hand.
It’s in mine, our fingers laced together, a cruel mockery of something I should remember.
I jerk my hand away like it burns.
“What happened?” I ask, and he doesn’t answer right away.
He just looks at me, his silver eyes dark and assessing, his face half-lit by the spectral ship glowing behind him.
For a fleeting second, I think I see it. A flash of something real. A hurt so deep that it carves through him like an open wound.
But then his face smooths over, all emotion vanishing as quickly as it appeared.
“You tell me, Princess,” he murmurs, water lapping at his collarbone, the starlight turning him into something carved from shadow and ice. “You’re the one who dove in after me.”
I flinch, the words cutting deeper than they should. Because he’s right—Ididdive in after him. Iworriedabout him.
As for what happened after that…
My left palm tingles, and I curl my fingers, forcing down the panic and trying to rationalize. Because this is just like the whisper stone. Just like when he tricked me into thinking I could trust him. Like when he tried to seduce me in his quarters, and in that tent, and every other time after that when he toyed with my heart and won.
A slow, wicked grin tugs at the corner of his lips, as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking. Exactly how off-balance I feel.
And I refuse to let him win again. Ican’t.
“I just didn’t want to explain to the Winter Court how their arrogant prince drowned because he refused to wait for backup,” I say, and the water presses down around me, as if it’s trying to calm my anger.
Riven’s smirk vanishes.
“Of course,” he says, his voice laced with mockery, as if my words don’t touch him at all. “I’d hate for you to waste your breath mourning me.”
I don’t answer. Because if I do, I might scream. I might demand to know why he’s looking at me like I’m an angry scar he wants to forget.
So, I turn away from him and swim to the ship, the water churning around me, feeding off the storm inside my chest.
Finally, I grip the ladder and pull myself up, using my magic to dry myself off as I get my bearings.
The worn wood feels strangely solid beneath my fingers, despite the ship’s translucent appearance. It’s like it’s welcoming me on board—bringing me on to the spectral plane where it exists.
Behind me, Riven lands in one effortless motion. He moves with that inhuman grace of his—the kind that makes it seem likehe’s barely touching the world at all. And he’s dripping wet, his shirt clinging to him, revealing enough of the definition in his chest to make my pulse jump.
Then, his sword is in his hand, steel catching the light as he scans the deck.
I snap to attention as well, my dagger out, my heart racing. My magic coils beneath my skin, ready to strike if any ghostly monsters are waiting to attack.
But there are no attacks. Instead, the boat starts to move, gliding into the endless night. And despite the translucent sails overhead and the fog drifting across the deck, the wood beneath my boots feels strangely solid.
Eventually, Riven lowers his sword.
“Perfect place for a romantic getaway,” he says dryly, and frost crystallizes along his blade, forming surprisingly elegant patterns.
I roll my eyes, tightening my grip on my dagger. “Don’t start.”
He shifts his focus to me, and I can almost imagine concern in his eyes. Like he’s checking if I’m steady. But then the moment breaks, and he’s back to the icy prince I know anddon’tlove—all detached chill and sharp edges.
