3. Sapphire
Sapphire
Riven moves toward the dark angel and kneels in front of her, studying her face as if he’s searching for something in her sharp, cutting features.
Then, as if in slow motion, one of his hands moves to her chin, tilting her face up so their eyes lock.
No.
Fae deals can be sealed in two ways: with a handshake, or with a kiss.
The dark angel parts her lips, and my stomach twists at the thought of what Riven might do.
Ghost nuzzles me with his head, as if sensing my distress, but it doesn’t matter. Because my heart’s racing, and I’m frozen in place, as if one wrong move will make the ground fall out from under me.
Breathe, I tell myself. Calm down .
But I can’t.
Not while I’m watching Riven’s thumb trace the dark angel’s bottom lip.
She lets out a breathy laugh that makes my heart stop. “Well?” she purrs, her eyes locked on Riven’s. “Are you going to seal our deal?”
She glances at me and smirks, clearly getting a rise out of this.
I say nothing. I won’t stoop to begging. I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s hurting me as much as I hurt him. Because keeping my secret from him was something I did out of fear, or shame, or something of the sort.
It wasn’t out of spite.
His other hand moves to her shoulder, steadying her as she tilts her head back in what looks like mock submission.
Every fiber of my being screams at me to look away.
But I don’t. Not even when his lips get so close to hers that the blood drains from my face.
The Riven I knew—the one I spent all that time with in this cave, the one I fell in love with—wouldn’t do this to me.
Unless it was all a lie?
Could he have been playing with my heart this entire time? Could he actually be the cold, heartless prince I believed him to be when he first brought me and Zoey to court to face his father? Was I naive enough to ever think anything else? To fall for his twisted games?
To believe he’d fallen in love with me?
I hold my breath, the air eerily still as I wait for the moment of truth—for him to press his lips against the dark angel’s and tear my heart from my chest.
“No,” he finally says, pulling back. “We’ll seal it the more conventional way. With a handshake.”
With that, I can breathe again.
He looks at me over his shoulder—really, truly looks at me—and there’s a surprising amount of vulnerability in his eyes. Enough that it brings me back to when we were alone in this cave during the storm, which now feels like a distant fairytale, despite having only ended a few hours ago.
My heart warms.
The love between us might not be lost. The Riven I thought I had by my side—the one who I believed would fight on the same team as me no matter what—is still in there.
I’d thank him for not going through with kissing her, but I know better than to thank a fae. Not even a fae who might possibly love me.
“How gentlemanly of you,” the dark angel says to Riven, snapping me back to the present. “Although I’m not sure how I can shake your hand while mine is encased in ice.”
Riven says nothing. Instead, he simply reaches forward and presses his fingers against the ice imprisoning her hand.
Frost crawls away, the ice cracking and shattering until her fingers are free.
“There,” he says. “The countdown will begin once the deal is sealed.”
She flexes her fingers slowly, as if savoring her regained freedom. “So considerate,” she says, although he doesn’t rise to the bait.
He simply takes her hand in his and repeats the terms of the deal.
“I agree to your terms,” she says, and frost blooms between their joined hands.
The deal seals with a crackle, then sinks under their skin, the ice disappearing completely.
“It’s done.” Riven puts the ice cage back around her hand, releases it, and steps back.
Despite the tension between us, I move to his side, standing tall. Because while Riven and I have our issues, we have one common goal right now—getting answers. So, we’re going to have to be a united front until she gives them to us and we get out of here as quickly as Ghost’s four legs can handle.
Which is hopefully faster than the dark angel can fly .
Riven moves toward me, but he doesn’t look at me. His entire focus is directed at the dark angel.
“Your name,” he says, getting straight to business.
“Zythara,” she responds, adding nothing more.
“And what are you?” I ask firmly, despite the nervous flutter in my chest.
Riven might have worded the deal, but I’m perfectly capable of asking her direct questions.
“A night fae,” she replies.
I glance at Riven to see his reaction. But if he’s ever heard of night fae before, he’s not letting on.
“What are night fae?” he asks.
“We’re what happens when winter fae are turned into vampires,” she says, her words dripping with pride. “More powerful than either race alone. We have air magic and water magic—in both ice and liquid forms—and we require blood to survive.”
My chest tightens. Water and air magic—just like me.
Except I don’t have wings. At least, I don’t think I do?
I reach to touch the place on my back where wings would be, but there’s nothing there.
On the other hand, I didn’t know I had fangs until those suddenly emerged, so it’s too soon to put wings off the table of possibilities.
“That shouldn’t be possible,” Riven says. “When supernaturals are turned into vampires, they lose their original magic. They only have air magic. ”
“I’m fae,” she says. “I can’t lie—both because of what I am, and because of the terms of our deal.”
Riven frowns, clearly grappling with what Zythara’s telling us.
“How do you have both air magic and water magic?” I ask her, and my own magic thrums to the surface, as if it wants to know, too.
“The vampire who turned our queen was special. Powerful,” she replies.
Riven steps forward, glaring down at her. “What made him so special?” he asks.
“He was a fae turned by the original vampire,” she answers, as if such a thing is an everyday occurrence.
“And where is he now?” Riven’s shooting off questions nearly faster than I can think.
“Dead.”
“Who killed him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where did that night fae take Zoey?” I chime in, since while I’m interested in learning about this supernatural species that has similar magic to mine, Zoey’s my priority.
“I can’t say for sure.” She shrugs.
I glare at her, and before I realize what’s happening, spheres of water are floating above my hands, threatening to nearly drown her like I did earlier .
“When night fae take humans, where do they typically bring them?” Riven smoothly breaks in.
“The Night Court.” Zythara scowls, as if angry at herself for revealing this information.
My heart leaps at getting a decently concrete answer about Zoey. “What happens to them there?” I ask.
“They become pets of the royal family.” Her lips curl into a smile that makes my skin crawl. “The king, queen, princes, and princesses each keep their own collection.”
I stiffen at the word.
Pets .
As if human lives are mere possessions.
But we have limited time, and I need to know more.
“What does being a pet entail?” I ask, struggling to keep my voice steady.
“The most desirable of them serve the royal family,” she replies. “As I said, each member of the royal family keeps a small collection. The ones they don’t want are sent to the barns, for the nobles to enjoy as they please.”
She continues to tell us more, and horror grows in my stomach as I learn about what Zoey’s been dragged—well, flown—into.
“And what makes them?—”
“Enough,” Riven cuts me off, and I freeze, jarred by his interruption. “We’ll get into more of those details later.” With that, he turns back to Zythara, as focused as ever. “Where’s the Night Court? ”
“To find the Night Court, you must go northwest through the forest, crest the highest hill, and locate the black stone archway,” she says. “Passing beneath it under the night sky activates the court’s magic, a ripple that notes your presence and grants you passage. Without it, the court remains veiled. But be warned that without an escort, you’ll never make it through alive.”