SAPPHIRE
“Are you ready?”Riven asks me.
The wind around us stills and the water recedes into the stream as I draw on their strength for what’s going to happen next.
“I’m ready,” I tell him.
“Good. But I don’t want to be touching you when it happens,” he says, untangling his fingers from mine. “It would only make it harder for both of us.”
I give him the smallest nod—understanding why having our hands tied would be far from the most strategic move. Then, I turn back to face Eros, keeping my heartbeat steady even as adrenaline hums beneath my skin.
“Let’s get this over with,” I say, both to Eros and to Riven, bracing myself for what’s going to happen next.
“Finally,” Eros says, and he raises the bow, the bright magic flaring like sparklers from its end, and then…
He lets go.
The golden arrow slices through the air, a dazzling storm of undying love hurtling toward me.
I go from stillness to pure motion, my air magic propelling me forward, nearly flying me to the stream. The closer I can get to the water, the better.
Riven’s already moving, too—his sword a flash of silver as he hurries to my side, blade raised, ready to fight.
“A bold choice.” Eros laughs, nocking another gold arrow into his bow and releasing it. “One I can have fun with.”
The water from the stream surges up at my command, twisting around me in a liquid shield, but Eros’s arrow doesn’t just soar.
Itsplits.
One becomes two. Two become four.
They whip through the air in a storm of gold, their paths erratic, impossible to predict. And these aren’t just regular arrows. They’remagicarrows. Each one weakens my water shield, rippling it outward, making it harder to maintain.
One gets through.
I slash it with my dagger, stopping it mid-flight.
The moment all the arrows hit the ground, they roll toward each other, melding back into one.
Eros moves with otherworldly speed, his bow a blur as he looses another round of arrows. Except this time, instead of firing in a straight trajectory, they twist midair, moving like serpents zeroing in on their target.
That target isme.
I whip my hands up, calling on my air magic to shift their paths. The wind howls, sending several arrows veering off course, but one slices across my shoulder, another grazing my thigh.
I scream, the pain burning through me, but force myself to stay standing.
Because like Eros said, the magic only works when it strikes the heart. And—luckily—the arrows’ magic isn’t changing the speed of my supernatural healing.
As I recover, Riven’s sword is a lethal blur as he intercepts another volley of arrows. He ducks low, easily evading their paths, then rolls to his feet and knocks another aside.
The frost on his blade flickers, but his skill more than makes up for his magic being weakened in the Summer Court.
But Eros isn’t just fast. He’s methodical. And he’s apparently so fixated on making me experience the nightmarish picture of undying love he painted for me that he’s only using the gold arrows, and he’s not aiming for Riven at all.
They’re all directed toward me. Every single one of them.
And he doesn’t waste shots. He watches, adapts. He fires exactly where we’re vulnerable. And since we’re trapped in his dome-like arena, we can’t run. We can’t hide.
