33. Sapphire
Sapphire
“No,” I snap at Chryserra. “We’re already giving you enough.”
The thought of Riven kissing her makes my stomach churn—and it makes the ice from the deal crawl from my elbows to my shoulders.
“Sapphire.” Riven’s voice cuts through my thoughts, the determination in his eyes making me freeze in place. “Remember earlier, before we entered the clearing that led us to the Midnight Star?”
I nod, remembering the kiss we shared. It was magical, as our kisses always are.
But that time was different.
My heart drops as I remember what I said to him afterward.
Thank you. For everything.
Those first two words bound me to a favor to him .
He was so playful when he replied by saying it would be a romantic favor. An intimate favor. One we’d both enjoy.
But now…
“I’m cashing in that favor,” he says, his eyes burning into mine with an intensity that tightens around my lungs more painfully than the tree roots wrapped around me ever could. “I want you to agree to the dryad’s deal.”
I try to protest—to tell him that he can’t force me to do this—but ice surges from my feet to my thighs, relentless in its mission to steal my free will.
“Stop,” I plead, although it only makes the ice spread faster. “You can’t do this.”
“You’re bound by a fae bargain, which means I absolutely can do this,” he says quietly, almost gently. “And given that there are no terms when one thanks a fae, there are no loopholes.”
The ice spreads further, making its way up my hips and to my stomach.
But I don’t accept this. There must be a loophole.
Aren’t there always loopholes when dealing with the fae? He already told me that the favor was going to be an… enjoyable one. He can’t just take that back. His saying it has to count for something.
But the ice doesn’t stop. It doesn’t even pause. It just continues on its way, spreading across my chest, threatening to make its way under my skin, and eventually, to my heart.
My teeth chatter. My fingers turn blue.
Magic, I think. I can use my magic. I can stop this.
Astral projection won’t help—my body will still freeze, whether I’m inside it or not.
Which leaves me with two other options.
I push out my air magic, forcing the space around me to heat.
The ice beads with condensation.
It’s working…
But the frost surges in response, hardening and spreading faster, overwhelming the warmth.
No.
I struggle to stop it, but it’s no use.
So, gritting my teeth, I pull at the moisture in the air, wrapping it around the ice.
But the frost remains solid—unyielding.
I try again, pushing harder. But the ice doesn’t respond. My magic can’t touch it.
Eventually, I stop fighting it and turn back to Riven, my glare colder than the frost trying to kill me.
“Is this really what you want? To force me into giving in?” I say to him, even when I’m so cold that I can’t feel my arms or legs anymore.
The only things keeping me up are the roots wound around my body .
My anger at this point isn’t even because he was considering the dryad’s offer. I was even starting to believe we could get the sap, save his father, defeat the Night Court, and that he’d fall back in love with me in the process.
Now, I’m so enraged that he’s trying to control me with magic that I’m surprised the ice isn’t melting from the heat of my anger.
Instead, each breath burns as the cold seeps deeper into my chest, crawling toward my heart, threatening to freeze it.
Black spots dance in my vision.
If I don’t give in, the frost is going to kill me.
“Fine,” I manage to say through my nearly frozen lips. “Yes. I agree to the deal.”
The ice retreats.
Warmth rushes back into my limbs, bringing with it a flood of pain.
Relief crosses Riven’s face, and I glare at him again, my anger razor sharp.
“You took away my free will,” I say, surprising myself by how calm I sound through the rage. “You used my gratitude for everything you’ve done for me against me. And I will never, ever forget that.”
He sucks in a sharp breath, as if my words were a knife to the heart, and the roots holding us down retreat .
Chryserra’s looking back and forth between us with a smugness that makes me want to throw a knife at her face. But I don’t. I don’t attack her with my magic, either.
I don’t care about her. The frost threatening to kill me is gone, but my heart still feels like it’s covered in ice.
Now that we’re free from the roots, Riven approaches me cautiously, as if every step toward me is a battlefield he knows he’s losing.
I’m so numb that I can’t move.
“Please try to understand,” he says, and his eyes, always so steady, flicker with a storm of guilt and determination. “We need that sap. I needed to keep you alive. This deal accomplishes both.”
“At what cost?” My voice breaks. “My trust? My ability to ever look at you the same way again? Because I was going to agree to the deal on my own. I was almost to the point where I could say it. Did you even think about that before using my gratitude to control me?”
Guilt crosses his face, and for a second, I almost regret speaking to him so harshly.
Almost.
“Even if you were thinking about agreeing, you didn’t say it,” he reminds me. “And every moment we argued about this, the more danger we were in, given that I’m a winter prince in Summer Court territory. My magic is weakened here. And I doubt the fae in these outer regions care about the political consequences of attacking a royal visitor from another court. Case in point.” He motions to Chryserra, who’s leaning against her tree, looking painstakingly satisfied.
I frown, since he’s right—I hadn’t considered any political implications. I’m hardly fluent in the politics of fae courts.
Still, that’s not the point right now.
“That doesn’t justify what you did,” I say instead, fury heating my skin. “You manipulated me. You used my love against me. You made me say yes.”
He exhales sharply, his jaw tightening. “It was either that or let the frost kill you. And I couldn’t stand there and watch. Not when I had a way to stop it,” he says, and then he reaches for me, his fingers brushing my cheek.
“Don’t.” I jerk away, wrapping my arms around myself.
“I know you’re angry,” he says, the pain in his voice making my chest ache. “You have every right to be. But I promised I’ll fall in love with you again, and I meant it. Now, I’m promising you something more—I’ll win your heart back, too.”
A bitter laugh escapes me.
“You won’t care about winning my heart back in a few minutes,” I remind him. “You won’t remember what it feels like to love me at all. ”
“You’re wrong.” He moves closer, the electricity buzzing between us making it impossible to breathe. “I might forget how I feel, but I’ll remember every moment we’ve shared. And when we make new moments—when I see you fight for what you believe in, or when I catch you smiling at something as simple as the way the starlight hits the water—I’ll feel it again.”
I look away, because if I hold his gaze for any longer, I might break completely.
This isn’t anger anymore. Because when he used my gratitude against me, it became something deeper. Something fractured.
But he forces me to look at him again, and the agony twisting in his eyes is so intense that I want to kiss him and make this entire nightmare magically disappear.
“You were dying,” he says, softer now. “Your heart was about to freeze.”
Those final words are all I need to put it together.
Your heart was about to freeze.
That’s what happened to his mother.
She died from a frozen heart.
He couldn’t stop the ice from killing her. But he could stop it from killing me.
It doesn’t make his decision to control me any better, but his reaction makes more sense now. And if these are the last minutes we’re going to spend together while he still loves me, I don’t want to spend them fighting .
“I understand,” I finally say, and just like that, the tension between us vanishes. “But I’m never going to say those words to you ever again.”
“Which words?” he asks, his half smile showing that while he’s trying to tease me—to bring back our typical banter—his heart isn’t in it.
“Well, obviously I’m going to keep telling you that I love you,” I say. “As for those other two? Consider me officially educated.”
His half-smile falters, and he reaches for me again, slower this time.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he says, and jagged shards of ice erupt from the ground around us, as if his magic is demonstrating the depth of his intent. “I swear it.”
“I know.” I force a smile, even though everything inside me is unraveling. “And I hope you’re prepared. Because I’m not going to make it easy for you to forget why you love me.”
His eyes darken, as if my challenge is both dangerous and irresistible. “You never make anything easy,” he murmurs.
I arch a brow. “You wouldn’t want me to.”
“No. Because I expect you to make it impossible for me to forget why I love you,” he says, and I memorize those words, ready to cling to them like a lifeline.
“This is all very touching,” Chryserra interrupts, pushing away from her tree. “But I’m tired of waiting. We’ve all agreed that you’ll give me the love you feel for the star touched in exchange for the sap in my tree, and that we’ll seal the deal with a kiss. Now, let’s proceed.”