With that, he disappears into the mist, although the silvery vapor continues to swirl.
I stare at the space where he stood in shock.
Becausethatwasn’t ominous or anything.
Circe toys with more fire in her fingertips, looking to me, yanking me out of my thoughts. “Your turn, Princess,” she says, the word not sounding as mockingly taunting coming from her as it does from Riven.
“You’ve got this,” the offending prince himself assures me.
“I know.” I narrow my eyes at him for assuming Ididn’tthink I could do this—just like he didn’t think I could handle sacrificing the pig.
He simply holds my gaze in challenge, and I step forward, my heart pounding as I focus on the misty pit of death in front of me.
“I’m Princess Sapphire Hayes Fairmont Solandriel Draevor of the Summer Court, the Winter Court, the New York Vampire Clan, and the star touched warrior of Celeste,” I say into the abyss. And while the long-winded title is—and will always be—a mouthful, it doesn’t feelquiteas horrible as it did the first time I heard it.
Probably because I’m the one speaking it—not Riven.
“I seek knowledge of my best friend, Zoey Madison, who was taken by the Night Court,” I continue. “I need to know how I can rescue her.”
The mist churns, shadows stretching and twisting within it as the whispers grow louder and more frantic.
Then, abruptly, they fall silent.
The vapor parts again. But this time, the figure that rises from the pit makes my blood run cold.
Because it’s not an ancient prophet.
It’s Matt Larkin.
My ex-boyfriend who was undeniablyaliveless than a month ago, on the night of his disastrous marriage proposal, when I fell into the fae realm.
