5. Sapphire
Sapphire
As we run, my arms around Riven’s waist feel like chains tethering me to someone who clearly wants nothing to do with me. But I swallow the lump in my throat and make myself useful, focusing on navigating by the stars instead of on the pain of being rejected.
Minutes blur into hours. Hills rise and fall, trees cast long, skeletal shadows across the snow, and the air grows colder. The only sounds are the rhythmic pounding of Ghost’s paws and the occasional gust of wind as I use my magic to blow around the snow behind us to cover our tracks.
After nearly a full day of traveling, Ghost’s pace slows.
“We need to rest,” Riven declares, and Ghost comes to a gradual stop in a small clearing surrounded by towering evergreen trees .
He swings off Ghost’s back with a grace that shows they’ve been doing this for years.
I, on the other hand, am not as graceful. Especially given how tired I am from the endless traveling.
Riven doesn’t notice. He’s already scanning the forest with calculated focus, his expression as cold as the ice he wields.
“The branches will help block the wind,” he says, not looking at me as he speaks. “And the snow will be good insulation for our shelter.”
“What shelter?” I ask, looking around for something I might have missed.
“The one we’re about to build,” he says, as if it should have been obvious. “I’m assuming you’ve heard of an igloo?”
“Of course I’ve heard of igloos.” I scoff, since Zoey and I built them all the time as kids during the winter.
Well, we tried to build them. Our attempts resulted in walls that shot straight up to the sky, since we could never figure out how to get them to curve inward and meet at the top.
“We’re going to build one,” Riven says, ice shards dancing around him as he begins bringing the snow together in what looks to be blocks. “Use your magic to heat the air around the snow to stick the blocks together, like when you made the icicles stick to the bottoms of your and Zoey’s boots during the bridge trial. ”
Heat the air around the ice.
I pause as the words sink in.
“I used air magic to melt the ice,” I realize. “Not water magic.”
“That’s my working theory, since summer fae can only control water in its liquid form,” he says, motioning to the two blocks closest to me. He created them quickly, although that isn’t a surprise, given how fast he put up the ice wall in the cave to shield us from the storm. “How about you give it a go and put my theory to the test?”
I nod and kneel next to the blocks, trying to focus on the task rather than the cold distance between me and Riven.
My magic is shaky. Unstable. When I try warming the first block to thaw its surface, I melt it to the point where it’s misshapen completely.
Riven exhales sharply. “Careful with your focus,” he says. “You’re using too much heat. Ground yourself. Steady your breathing. Control your emotions, and therefore, your magic.”
“I’m trying,” I snap, although all I do is heat the air so much that the remains of the block melt completely. “I don’t exactly have a lifetime of practice, like you.”
He stops working on the igloo, his silver eyes locking on to me like knives pinning me down.
“I’m aware,” he says slowly, forcing a calmness into his voice that wasn’t there before. “Which is why I’m trying to help. Unless you don’t want a place to sleep?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then try harder.”
I bite back an argument rising in my throat and focus on the blocks again, inhaling deeply and summoning the air magic within me. As I do, I imagine being as Riven described: grounded, steady, and controlled.
Three things I’m definitely not feeling right now.
The next pulse of warmth I send out is lighter, and the edge of the ice block melts just enough to fuse to the one beside it.
“There.” Riven nods with approval. “That’s better.”
“I told you I was trying,” I say, and for the next few minutes, we fall into a steady rhythm.
He crafts the blocks with swift precision, and I cautiously follow his instructions to meld them together.
“Why do you even need my help?” I finally ask. “You created that ice wall in the cave—the one that protected us from a mega blizzard—in seconds. Why is an igloo so much harder than that?”
“I never said I needed your help,” he says simply. “You, however, need mine.”
I freeze and stare at him, dropping hold of my magic.
“So, this is another training session?” I ask, and he gives me that trademark smirk of his—the one that means he’s enjoying catching me off guard .
It’s frustrating, but at least he’s giving me something other than anger and stonewalling.
“Like you said—I have a lifetime of practice,” he replies. “You have less than two weeks of it. And since we’re stuck working together for the foreseeable future, I’m going to mold you into the best asset possible.”
Whatever connection I thought had formed between us shatters in a second.
“Did you really just call me an asset to be molded?”
I stand as anger rises inside me, the trees whistling from the wind blowing around the clearing.
“Yes. An asset,” he replies as he also stands, his tone as frosty as his magic. “And right now, not a very reliable one.”
“I got here less than two weeks ago.” I remind him, moving closer, enjoying the feeling of the wind in my hair—of the power rushing around me. “In those two weeks, I learned I’m not human, was sentenced to death by an insane king, completed three brutal trials designed to break my body and soul, nearly died at the hands of multiple murderous monsters, watched a night fae abduct my best friend, and survived on the literal blood of my enemies. I didn’t want this. Any of it.”
Not to mention the fact that I fell in love with a winter prince who now hates me and was potentially toying with me this entire time.
Because all I’ve ever been to him was an asset .
He pauses mid-motion, and the block of ice in his hands falls to the ground, as if my words physically hurt him.
“Whether you want it or not, this is where we are now,” he says sharply. “And the only way we survive this is if you stop pitying yourself long enough to work with me and learn to be as lethal as possible.”
“I’m not pitying myself,” I say. “I’m…”
“Brooding? Distracted? Keeping secrets that could have gotten you—and me—killed?”
His words cut through me, twisting at my heart.
“It wasn’t like that,” I say, although I hardly sound convincing, even to myself.
“Then what was it like?” he challenges, and now that he’s looking at me with those silver eyes that probe into my soul, I wish he’d go back to avoiding me like he was doing before.
“I wanted to tell you. I just didn’t know how,” I admit, relieved when Ghost moves to stand beside me, protecting me from Riven’s icy wrath. “I didn’t want you to look at me like you’re looking at me now.”
“And how am I looking at you now?” His gaze intensifies, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Like I’m something you can’t trust,” I say, trembling despite my best effort to keep steady. “Like I’m dangerous. Like I’m…” I trail off, hating how small I sound. “Like I’m not me anymore. ”
He releases a long, controlled breath and runs his fingers through his hair, as if gathering his thoughts and containing his magic.
“You didn’t trust me enough to tell me,” he finally says. “And maybe worse, you didn’t trust me to help you—even though helping you is all I’ve been doing since you fell into this realm and nearly got yourself killed on multiple occasions.”
“You’ve been keeping me alive because I’m a good asset,” I snap, using his word from earlier against him.
He doesn’t so much as flinch.
“At first, yes,” he admits. “But then, when you were under the ice in the lake trial, swimming to find the key, I realized I’d never forgive myself if you didn’t make it back up. The thought of not seeing you again tore at a place in my heart I didn’t know existed.”
I still, since while I’m not sure what I expected, it certainly hadn’t been something as raw and real as that.
“Really?” I ask, wanting him to say it again. Wanting him to tell me he still cares.
Wanting to know I’m not alone in this cold, dark, endless wilderness.
“I’m fae. I can’t lie,” he says, brushing it off so easily that all the hope leaves my heart at once. “But you have an entire other arsenal of magic at your disposal. If I knew you were part vampire, I could have done a better job at teaching you how to use both your water magic and your air magic. Not to mention your projection magic, which we still know next to nothing about.”
“I didn’t know I was part vampire until I got to the Wandering Wilds and killed that night fae,” I say, rushing to clarify.
He takes a moment to study me, and I have no idea if he likes what he sees. All I know is that I feel like I’m under a microscope, with every flaw—down to the absolute smallest of them—laid bare beneath his penetrative gaze.
“What, exactly, happened with that night fae at the ravine?” he finally asks.
I flash back to that moment—when the night fae pinned me down, pierced my neck with his fangs, and started drinking from me. He was going to drain me dry. He was likely only a few minutes away from it, at the most.
So, I projected and killed him from behind.
And then, I drained every drop of blood from his already dead body.