Riven
I listen to the cacophony of human voices around me, fighting the urge to let my magic frost the water glass in my hands. The warmth of this place—this “Maple Pig Bar and Grill”—grates against my senses, but I force myself to remain still. Composed. Winter Court royalty does not fidget.
Ghost had led me right to this establishment. My faithful companion has never been wrong before, and his behavior tonight has been particularly strange. Insistent. As if he’s found something important, something worth the annoyance of these mortals and their ceaseless chatter.
I stare into my water, contemplating my next move.
The Winter King—my father—grows more unstable with each passing day.
The madness that has been slowly consuming him since my mother’s death has reached a breaking point.
Without the potion, the court will crumble under his increasingly erratic rule.
And I still need that final ingredient.
“That man looks like he could use a drink,” a young woman with dark hair says, her gaze directed at me.
I keep my expression neutral, but my senses sharpen.
The bartender with white-blonde hair moves toward me, and something.
.. shifts. The air around her feels different—charged with an energy I’ve rarely felt outside the fae realms. My fingers tighten around the glass as a thin layer of frost begins to form where my skin makes contact.
I relax my grip immediately. Control. Always control.
When she’s finally right in front of me, I find myself staring into the most remarkable pair of eyes I’ve ever seen on a human. Blue, like the deepest parts of the winter lakes. But there’s something else there, something hidden beneath the surface.
“Rough night?” she asks.
“You could say that.” I hold her gaze, curious about what she’ll do next. Most humans can’t maintain eye contact with me for long. There’s something about fae eyes that unsettles them, even when they don’t understand why.
But she doesn’t look away.
“Lucky for you, I have just the thing.” She reaches for a silver shaker. “This one’s on the house.”
I watch her work, fascinated despite myself. Her hands move with a fluid grace that speaks of natural talent—or something more. There’s a rhythm to her movements that feels almost... magical. Not the controlled, calculated magic of the Winter Court, but something wilder, more intuitive.
Water magic. Untrained, unconscious, but unmistakably there.
“Aren’t you a bit young to be serving drinks?” I ask, probing for information. If she’s truly fae—a changeling as Ghost seems to think—she’d be older than she appears.
“I’m eighteen,” she replies easily. “I make the best drinks in Maine. So, as long as I don’t drink the drinks, the restaurant lets me make them and serve them.”
The drink she places before me is a soft pink—delicate, almost innocent in appearance. Nothing like what I’d normally choose. My ice magic stirs within me, responding to my quiet amusement.
“Do I seem like a man who orders pink drinks?” I raise an eyebrow, testing her reaction.
“You must not be from around here,” she counters confidently.
No, indeed. Not from around here at all.
“I’ll take it as a compliment that I don’t seem like I’m from a small town in Maine.” I allow myself the ghost of a smile.
“People come here from all over. But I always remember a face. And yours...” She trails off, her cheeks coloring slightly.
Interesting. I need to provide a reason for my presence without arousing suspicion. “I lost my cat,” I explain, the half-truth coming easily. “Ended up finding him nearby, and this place seemed busy, so I figured I’d check it out.”
“Your cat?” she repeats, clearly skeptical.
“Correct.” I lean back, letting my power subtly fill the space between us—not enough to be noticed, just enough to test if she senses it. “His name’s Ghost.”
No reaction. Either she’s exceptionally skilled at concealing her abilities, or she truly has no awareness of what she is.
“And where’s Ghost now?”
“He’s waiting outside.” My attention catches on the bracelet adorning her wrist—a delicate silver chain with a sapphire pendant. The stone pulses with a faint magic, old and protective. Someone wanted to keep her hidden. “That’s a beautiful bracelet.”
“My mom gave it to me.” She forces a smile that suggests there’s more to that story. “So, are you going to try the drink?”
“Depends,” I say, allowing myself to play along. “Are you going to tell me your name?”
“I’m Sapphire.” She glances down at her bracelet. “Like my bracelet.”
“Except you’re far more beautiful.” The words slip out before I can stop them—not calculated, not strategic.
I need to distract her. Pull her focus away from the crack in my armor.
So, I lift the drink to my lips and take a sip.
The taste explodes across my tongue—sweet at first, then warming, with a surprising complexity that speaks of skill far beyond what any human should possess.
As the liquid touches my throat, a surge of calm strength flows through me, easing the constant tension in my shoulders.
Potion-making talent. Rare even among the fae. My suspicions crystallize into certainty—this girl, whatever she believes herself to be, is not human.
And she might be exactly what I need.
For a moment, the noise of the bar fades away, and I’m acutely aware of her presence, of the potential she represents. The Winter King could be saved. The court could be stabilized. And all because Ghost led me to this unassuming establishment in a forgotten corner of the human realm.
“What about you?” she asks, her voice pulling me back to the present. “What’s your name?”
Before I can answer, the door slams open with enough force to draw the attention of everyone in the room. A young man strides in, radiating the particular brand of aggressive energy that only human males seem to perfect. His emotions are written plainly across his face—jealousy, anger, possession.
“Larkin!” someone calls out to him, but he ignores it, pushing through the crowd toward us.
He barely glances at me as he steps around the bar to stand possessively next to Sapphire.
“Sapphire.” His eyes roam over her in a way that makes my fingers itch with frost. “We need to talk.”
Frost forms inside my boots as I resist the urge to freeze him where he stands.
That would certainly complicate matters.
Instead, I observe the interaction carefully, noting the way Sapphire’s posture changes—tense, guarded, yet resigned.
The water in glasses across the bar ripples almost imperceptibly.
She doesn’t even realize she’s doing it.
“Now’s not really a good time,” she tells him, but he reaches for her wrist, his fingers closing around it with a possessiveness that makes my jaw clench.
I set my drink down silently, frost creeping along my fingertips. The temperature around me drops several degrees, though no one seems to notice. No one except Ghost, who would be growling if he were here—I can feel his agitation even from outside.
“Please,” the boy—Larkin—pleads, desperation edging his voice. “It’s the last few minutes before the new year. I don’t want to end it like this.”
Sapphire’s eyes dart around, taking in all the spectators—including me. I keep my expression carefully neutral, though my magic coils inside me, responding to my growing distaste for this human and his presumptuous hands.
“Fine.” She pulls her wrist free with a sharp motion. “Talk.”
His pause suggests he didn’t expect her acquiescence. Interesting—he seeks to dominate, yet falters when given what he wants. Typical human contradiction.
“I want us to have a fresh start.” He leans closer, invading her space. “Come home with me. Tonight.”
“I’m not moving in with you.” Her voice is weary, as if they’ve had this conversation countless times before. “I’m not ready.”
“You’re never going to be ready.”
His hand slams against the bar with enough force to make the glasses jump, and I straighten imperceptibly, my magic surging in response to his aggression.
But before I can decide whether to intervene, there’s a loud crack from the service sink behind the bar, and water sprays outward in a sudden, powerful jet.
Not an accident. Her magic, responding to her heightened emotions.
“Great,” she mutters, rushing to the sink as water soaks her shirt and jeans.
I watch with fascination as she works to stem the flow, her movements instinctive, her connection to the water evident in how quickly she finds the right valve setting.
This is exactly the kind of raw, untrained talent I’ve been searching for—someone who can manipulate elements without even realizing they’re doing it.
“Let me help,” Larkin says, his anger apparently forgotten as he moves to take over.
Before he can reach her, Sapphire twists the valve shut, cutting off the spray. Water drips from her sleeves, her wet clothes clinging to her skin. Even soaked and frustrated, there’s something undeniably captivating about her.
“I didn’t realize how handy you were,” Larkin says, his tone a strange mix that sets my teeth on edge.
“It’s been happening a lot lately,” she explains, attempting to dry her hands on her already soaked jeans. “We really need a new sink.”
His expression softens, and I recognize the manipulation before he even opens his mouth. “You know I just want us to be together,” he says, his voice gentler now. “I love you. I always have, and I always will.”
Ice-cold irritation—or maybe something else, something I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before—floods through me.
Because that’s it. I’ve heard enough. If I stay here for much longer, the man who I presume is Sapphire’s boyfriend is going to become a popsicle by the end of the night.
And if that happens, my chance of getting her to help me might lessen considerably, and it will definitely complicate my plans.
The countdown to midnight begins, humans raising their glasses with manufactured excitement.
“Ten... nine... eight...”
I drain the last of my drink, setting it down silently.
“Seven... six...”
I slip away from the bar, moving through the crowd with the silent grace that marks me as something other than human. No one notices. They never do.
“Five... four...”
I cast one last glance toward Sapphire. Larkin’s hands are on her waist now, his body pressing close to hers. The possessiveness of the gesture makes my magic pulse cold against my skin.
“Three... two... one...”
He kisses her as midnight strikes, and I turn away, a strange, unfamiliar feeling twisting in my chest. Not jealousy—royalty of the Winter Court doesn’t indulge in such petty emotions. Strategy, perhaps. Irritation at an unnecessary complication.
“Happy New Year!” The humans erupt in celebration, their voices rising in a way that grates against my senses.
Outside, Ghost waits in the shadows, his massive white form nearly invisible against the snow. His eyes meet mine, questioning.
“Yes,” I tell him as I approach. “You were right. She’s the one we need.”
I cast one last look at the bar behind me, plans already forming in my mind. I’ll find her again. After all, a human male is hardly an obstacle for a prince of the Winter Court.
And Sapphire—with her undiscovered magic and innate talent—will help me save my father, whether she realizes it or not.
The Winter King’s madness will be cured. The court will be restored.
And this remarkable changeling with the sapphire bracelet will be the key to it all.