Midnight Star (Star Touched: Fae Bound #3)

37. Sapphire

Sapphire

As we follow the stream, Riven returns to “strategy mode”—cool, detached, and devoid of the heat from our argument at the tree.

Despite how tempting it was to give in back there, I’m proud of myself for resisting. Because I can’t be intimate with Riven unless his entire heart is in it.

Anything less would break mine too much in the process. More than it already has, which given how much it hurts right now, would be unbearable.

“We need to be careful how we approach the queen,” he says, barely looking at me as he talks. “Lysandra is pragmatic, but she won’t be easily manipulated. She’ll listen, but only if we present the situation in a way that benefits her. Any sign of weakness, and she’ll turn us away—or worse, use us to her advantage.”

I nod absently, fine to let him talk this through to himself. After all, he’s the expert in court politics here—not me.

His pace quickens. “Are you listening to me?” he snaps, stopping me in my path.

“Yes,” I snap right back at him, anger rushing through me too quickly for me to push it down. “Far more than you listened to me when I was reminding you who you were before you sold your love for me to a dryad.”

He exhales, slow and deliberate, as if trying to force patience into his body. “You need to stop clinging onto something that doesn’t exist,” he says. “It’s distracting you. Making you weak. The best thing you can do for yourself to ensure you’re not a liability is to move on from whatever fantasy you’ve built in your head and accept that I don’t love you.”

“Love isn’t a liability.” I step toward him, my magic brimming just beneath my skin—a reminder of the power I hold here.

“It is when it makes you distracted.” His eyes harden, and he doesn’t back down. “Is that what you want, Sapphire? To be so distracted by this fantasy of me loving you that it gets both of us killed?”

I stand there, frozen, my breath shallow, my fingers curled into fists.

And then—everything shifts.

The air thickens, pressing in around us, coiling around my ribs and squeezing the breath from my lungs. The forest, once so alive and vibrant, goes silent. No rustling leaves. No chirping insects. Even the water in the stream stills, as if time itself has stopped.

Riven goes rigid, his fingers wrapping around the hilt of his sword as he scans the trees. But I can already see the tension in his jaw—the quiet calculation of a predator who realizes he might not be the most dangerous thing here.

Then, the air ripples, like the fabric of the world itself is unraveling.

And, out of that ripple, steps a man.

Tall, broad-shouldered, and golden-haired, that magic radiating from him is so strong I can taste it. It’s heady and intoxicating, like the first rush of pleasure before a fatal drop. I want to relish in it—to be comforted in its seductive warmth.

I’m not even bothered by the bow he’s holding in one hand, and the quiver of arrows strapped to his back. Because he’s so perfect—his face carved like a statue of some long-forgotten deity—that he’s clearly benevolent.

However, Riven must not feel the same, because he draws his sword.

“Come any closer, and you’ll regret bringing arrows to a sword fight,” he says, although the man simply laughs—a sound that wraps around me like a soft embrace .

As he does, magic surges around us, creating a dome of golden energy that seals the three of us inside. It’s like a perfectly smooth, giant igloo, although unlike an igloo, there’s no obvious way out.

Ice crackles along the length of Riven’s blade, thin and delicate, but the heat in the air is already melting it.

“I wouldn’t recommend that, Winter Prince,” the man says. “Despite your talents, fighting a god usually doesn’t end well. And lucky for you, I’m not here to kill either of you.”

Riven’s grip tightens on his sword, his eyes locked onto the man—the god —with pure, lethal focus.

However, even though this god just trapped us in a prison of magic, the aura rolling off him is alluring. Ancient. Divine.

It reminds me of Celeste.

It’s not exactly the same—Celeste’s magic was celestial, vast, and all-encompassing. Like looking into the night sky and feeling the pull of eternity.

But his magic has a similar, unmistakable weight to it. Which means he’s not lying.

He really is a god.

“Riven,” I say, forcing steadiness into my voice. “Lower your sword.”

He doesn’t so much as glance at me. “Not a chance.”

“If he wanted to attack, he would have by now,” I say, keeping my movements slow and controlled .

“That doesn’t mean he won’t.” Riven’s voice is sharp, but there’s a flicker of something in his expression—something calculating and aware.

None of us say a word.

Finally, Riven exhales sharply and lowers his sword.

“Wise choice,” the man says, his warm smile turning somewhat predatory. “Allow me to properly introduce myself. I’m Eros, the god of love.”

“Love?” Riven scoffs, like he’s been doing every time I’ve mentioned the word since he traded his for me away.

“Indeed.” Eros’s expression darkens. “Which is why your current situation greatly interests me. You see, I couldn’t help but overhear your charming discussion about love being a liability. So, tell me, Winter Prince—do you really believe that’s true? Do you think love’s a liability?”

Riven stiffens. “What I believe is none of your concern.”

“Oh, but it is.” Eros circles us slowly, fluid and graceful. “You see, I can sense the void where your love for her should be. Stolen. Erased. Hollowed out like a gutted fruit. A disturbing perversion of everything sacred in this world.”

Hope flutters in my chest as I study the arrows in Eros’s quiver. As I do, the stream grows restless, the air thickening with enough moisture that droplets of water cling to my skin.

“You’re here to help?” I ask, stepping toward him. “To fix it?”

Riven lets out an incredulous laugh. “Sapphire?—”

But I don’t look at him. I can’t look at him. Not when the god of love is standing in front of us, acknowledging the void in Riven’s heart where his love for me used to be.

This is our chance to make this right. And I’m not going to lose it.

Eros draws an arrow from his quiver and twirls it playfully between his fingers, something undeniably dangerous flashing in his eyes.

I step back, slammed with the realization that no, he’s not here to help us.

“Did you know that I have two types of arrows? Golden-tipped, to bring on undying love,” he muses, and then he pulls out another arrow, this one darker— wicked-looking. “And lead-tipped, to cast consuming hate. Quite the dichotomy, isn’t it? The beauty of love, and the brutality of hate. Two sides of the same coin. Each arrow able to ignite either passion or fury the moment it strikes the heart.”

I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry, only able to focus on one thing. “The gold arrows,” I say slowly, praying with every bit of my heart that I can reason with the god standing in front of me. “Can they restore love that’s been lost?”

Eros watches me for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

Then, he laughs, and something inside me breaks.

“Oh, sweet girl.” He shakes his head, as if I said something enjoyably foolish. “Do you really think I came here to help you?”

I want to say yes. I want to believe he sensed the emptiness in Riven’s heart and came here to make it whole again.

Unfortunately, as much as I wish it was true, I can’t lie. And everything about the way this god is interacting with us—his words, his tone, his expressions—points to anger instead of empathy.

A glance at Riven shows that he’s simply shifting impatiently, as if he wants to get this show on the road and hightail it out of here.

He doesn’t care. Of course he doesn’t care.

But, when this is finished, he will. This is my chance, and I won’t waste it.

So, since I’m apparently the only one who’s going to be useful in getting back what Riven bargained away, I return my focus to Eros.

“Will you help us?” I ask him, since the god of love must have love in his heart.

“I could,” he says, studying the golden arrow with disturbing intensity. “But you don’t deserve it.” His eyes flash with anger, and gold magic buzzes across the dome like electricity, reminding us of his power. “You treated love like a commodity. Like something to be bargained away for personal gain. Both of you.” His gaze cuts to Riven. “You for trading it, and you—” Back to me. “For agreeing to the deal.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” I protest, wind whooshing through the dome as my magic senses my desperation. “He used magic to force me.”

The reminder makes my stomach swirl with nausea. It’s so disturbing that I can’t blame Eros for being angry about it. I’m angry about it, too.

But that’s an issue for another day.

A day when Riven loves me again.

“There’s always a choice,” the god continues. “And you made yours. Both of you. Now, you’ll face the consequences.”

“What consequences?” Riven asks, the air cooling around him as he keeps his gaze level with Eros’s.

“I’m here to punish you,” Eros says simply. “To show you what happens when you treat true love—once in an immortal lifetime love—like a trinket to be traded.”

His threat hangs in the air, and I glance at Riven, hoping he’ll prove Eros wrong. That he’ll show this vengeful god that he does love me.

All he has to do is say those three words .

Three words, and the god of love will—hopefully—leave us alone.

“Your point is valid,” Riven says instead, positioning himself slightly in front of me, in a way that could almost be perceived as caring about me. “However, it doesn’t apply to us. Because if I ever truly loved her, nothing could have taken it from me. Why should we be punished for something that was never real to begin with?”

I take a sharp breath inward, the coldness of his words a punch to my soul.

“I am a god of love,” Eros says, more golden energy crackling across the dome in bright electrical veins. “I see the truth of what you’ve thrown away. The emptiness it left behind screams at me like a shattered vow. And I will not stand idly by while you desecrate what others would die to have.”

“You’re mistaken,” Riven replies, with no flickers of regret or hesitation. Just that same unwavering certainty that digs into my chest like a blade. “Whatever you think you see?—”

“I see everything,” Eros cuts him off. “I see the void in your heart where love should be. I see her pain, raw and bleeding—a wound that festers because you refuse to acknowledge it. I see the threads of what you shared—threads you carelessly severed as if they meant nothing.”

My breath catches, my vision blurring, the wind blowing my hair in strands across my face. He’s saying what I already know is true, but hearing it aloud—spoken with divine certainty—makes it real in a way that tears even deeper into my soul.

“Do you know how rare true love is?” Eros continues, his voice dropping to something quieter, but no less dangerous. “How many beings in this universe search their entire lives for what you two once had? Meanwhile, you traded it away like common currency. I should shoot both of you down on the spot for it. However, I’m going to be generous, since I am the god of love and all. I’m going to let you choose your punishment.”