Midnight Star (Star Touched: Fae Bound #3)

34. Sapphire

Sapphire

Riven’s gaze doesn’t move from mine.

“I love you,” he says, and while those words should make me feel whole, my heart feels like it’s being ripped from my chest from knowing he might be saying it for the last time.

Then, he straightens, his expression hardening as he turns to Chryserra.

“Let’s finish this,” he says, and when he steps over the ice shards surrounding us and walks to her, I can already feel the knife twisting deeper into my chest—an echo of the pain I’m going to experience soon.

His hands curl into fists at his sides, the only sign of the turmoil gathering beneath the surface.

I want to run to him. To grab him and pull him back. To beg him one last time to find another way.

But there is no other way. Even if there was, the magic of the favor I owe him binds me into staying silent.

I’d still be furious with him if I wasn’t about to lose him.

Chryserra smiles—smug and greedy—as her bark-textured fingers reach out to cradle his face.

He doesn’t flinch—he doesn’t even move—but I can see the rigidity in his posture, every muscle in his body tensing like he’s bracing for a blow.

And then, without another word, she kisses him.

He looks like a statue, utterly still, his face void of any emotion. But he endures it, his jaw tight and his arms hanging straight by his sides, his hands curled into tight fists.

I don’t breathe. I don’t blink.

The words he just spoke— I love you —are ringing in my ears and vibrating in my bones, already ghosts of something slipping away.

A moment later, the ice shards surrounding him begin to melt. First, just a few droplets sliding down the jagged edges, glinting like tears in the moonlight. Then more. And more.

His posture relaxes, his clenched fists loosening.

Then, the melting quickens.

Each shard that disappears is a heartbeat lost. A piece of him—and of us—slipping away.

My nails dig into my palms, as if physical pain can remove the emotional pain. But it doesn’t. Everything inside me shatters as I watch the love Riven feels for me disappear, piece by piece, like sand slipping through an hourglass.

It’s like I’m being unmade, one slow, torturous second at a time.

When Chryserra finally pulls back, her eyes flutter closed, and she inhales deeply, savoring the golden light that transfers from Riven to her.

That light was his love for me.

And now, it’s hers.

The moment it absorbs into her body, every ounce of hope I had that his love for me ran so deep that the deal would fail shatters.

“It’s done,” she says, and when she opens her eyes again, there’s a satisfaction in them that wasn’t there before. “Such exquisite love. So rare. So beautiful. I’ll hold onto it, always. And now… I’ll leave you both to it. Collect as much sap as you can carry. It’s yours.”

“We will,” Riven says, and just like that, Chryserra walks over to the tree, gives me one last smug look, and vanishes into its trunk.

Riven turns away from her, his eyes meeting mine.

I wish they didn’t.

Because they’re cold. Distant. Clinical. Like he’s assessing a stranger instead of looking at someone he poured his heart out to moments earlier .

“We should collect extra sap if possible,” he tells me, getting straight to business. “It might prove useful for future potions.”

He walks to the pack, and I watch him, waiting for him to say something more.

He doesn’t. All he does is focus on the task at hand.

I guess it’s up to me then.

So, I stand straighter and take a tentative step closer, praying to every god in the Universe that he’ll run to me, kiss me, and say he still loves me.

Still, nothing.

I try to inhale, but it hurts.

I can do this, I tell myself, since I’m not giving up on him. Not now, and not ever. I have to do this. For both of us.

“How do you feel?” I finally ask, even though he’s completely focused on the pack, retrieving the waterskin like this is just another step in a mission.

“I’m fine. Although I must admit, I’ve had better.” He shrugs. “You’d think that in all those centuries of being alive, that dryad would have had more time to practice her technique.”

My chest aches at his attempted humor.

It sounds like him—that dry, sarcastic wit I fell in love with—but there’s something missing.

The warmth that usually lingers beneath his jokes is gone, replaced by empty observation .

“That’s really what you’re thinking about right now?” I ask. “A dryad’s kissing technique?”

“The feeling of kissing sandpaper will likely leave me haunted for life,” he replies, so casually that it’s almost cruel. “I’d give it a three out of ten, at best.”

I stare at him in shock, waiting for him to say something— anything —to show he cares.

All he does is walk to the tree to examine the sap.

He’s joking. He has to be. Any second now, he’s going to give me that familiar smile and tell me he can’t believe he tricked me like that.

Seconds pass.

He says nothing more.

“You just bargained your love for me away in a deal with a dryad,” I say flatly, unable to believe this is happening. “And all you can comment on is rating the kiss, like you’re some sort of frat boy?”

He exhales in frustration and focuses on me again. “Given that you’re apparently in need of a reminder, I’m a winter prince,” he says, and a swirl of frost curls in his palm, solidifying into a sharp, intricate crystal. “Not some mortal playing drinking games in a local bar.”

I flinch at the obvious jab at my prior job and use my air magic to blast the ice crystal out of his horribly arrogant hand.

It melts before it can hit the ground.

“Someone’s wound up,” he says with that trademark smirk of his. “And it’s certainly not me, since I’ve just confirmed that tree spirits aren’t my type.”

I glare at him again, searching his face for some flicker of warmth, some trace of the man who—just minutes ago—looked at me like I was his entire world.

I find nothing.

His smirk remains, casual and detached, like none of this matters. Like I don’t matter.

I can’t accept that. I won’t.

“We both know what your type is.” I keep my gaze level with his, challenging him to say that his type is me.

“Would you care to enlighten me?” He steps closer, slow and deliberate, his eyes raking over me with measured interest.

Interest is good. Right?

“The cave. The igloo.” I step closer, emphasizing each word as if doing so will drill them into his mind. “Either of those ring a bell?”

“Those were certainly... enjoyable moments,” he says, and then he’s in front of me, my body humming at the sudden closeness.

I can barely breathe as he reaches out, his fingertips grazing my wrist—light, teasing, and barely there.

“The sap will take some time to collect. Which means we’ve got time to kill,” he murmurs, leaving a trail of cool frost along my skin. “We should make good use of it. After all, you did tell me earlier that you enjoy solid things.”

I yank my arm back and scowl at him. “Are you serious?”

His smirk doesn’t waver. If anything, it deepens, like I’m the one being unreasonable.

“What?” he says, spreading his hands in mock innocence. “It wouldn’t be the first time we used waiting around as an excuse to have a little fun.”

My chest tightens.

Fun.

Nothing more.

Nothing real.

“That’s really all it would be for you?” I ask, even though I’m already clenching my fists, dreading his answer. “Just a way to pass the time?”

“A particularly pleasant way.” His fingers brush my cheek, but the gesture feels hollow. Empty. Meaningless. “You liked it before. A lot, if I remember correctly.”

I jerk away from his touch again, my chest aching. “Don’t.”

“Why not?” He tilts his head, studying me with detached interest. “The attraction is as strong as ever. For both of us. And it’s not like it’s something we haven’t done before. So, why not enjoy it?”

“Because there’s more than that between us. More than…” I trail off, gesturing at him. “More than this. ”

“This is all there is now.” He shrugs, his eyes traveling over my body as if he’s assessing if he’ll get what he wants from it or not. “Take it or leave it. Although I must say, leaving it seems like a waste of a perfectly good—and an extremely enjoyable—opportunity. Don’t you think?”