17. Sapphire

Sapphire

Just before sunrise, the stars that have been guiding me all night fade. Exhaustion drags at my limbs, and even though I’m pressed against Riven’s back as we ride Ghost through the forest, I can barely keep my eyes open.

“There.” Riven points to a dense group of frost-tipped pines ahead. “The branches will give us cover, and the roots create a natural barrier. It’s as defensible as we’ll find out here.”

As much as I hate stopping, I can’t keep guiding us through the day, when the stars are no longer out. Well, minus the sun, but clearly that doesn’t count in this circumstance. Plus, Ghost’s pace has slowed considerably. He’s as exhausted as we are.

Riven dismounts first, then reaches up to help me down.

My legs shake as they hit the ground, and I have to grip his arm to stay steady.

We barely spoke while riding Ghost’s back, minus my instructions about which way the stars were pointing us. I couldn’t. Because all I feel is guilt, and all I see is Zoey’s terrified face as she was flung over that waterfall, and all I hear is her scream as that dark angel carried her away into the forest.

I’m only halfway present as I follow Riven to the space between the trees, which forms a sort of hollow, the ground carpeted with soft needles. He clears away some snow and fallen branches, creating a small shelter while Ghost sniffs around the area, as if making sure it’s safe.

Riven settles into the space he’s cleared, reaching into his pack and pulling out a bundle wrapped in cloth.

“We need to eat,” he says, unwrapping the package to reveal a chunk of dark bread and a handful of berries. “It’s not much, but it’ll keep us going.”

I drop onto the makeshift bed of pine needles, hugging my knees to my chest. I’m still fairly satiated from the elk, so I’ll be fine eating the bread and berries for now.

But I’ll eventually need blood again. I assume in two more days, judging by how long I lasted between the dark angel and the elk.

“The stars were clear tonight,” Riven says, settling beside me and breaking off a piece of bread. “You read them well.”

Something about his voice calms me. I don’t know why, but it just does.

“They sang to me.” I take a small bite of the bread, remembering the way the constellations pulsed with their own rhythm, harmonizing with each other, connecting to each other—and to me. “Like they were trying to show me the way forward.”

He studies me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle.

“My mother used to say the same thing,” he finally says.

The sadness in his voice makes my heart hurt.

“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “About what happened to her.”

“Don’t,” he says sharply, but then he sighs, as if giving in. “Just eat. Rest. We have a long journey ahead.”

I pick at a berry, tears welling in my eyes as I eat it.

He watches me, clearly aware of the fact that I’m seconds away from bursting into tears. But he doesn’t push me to talk about it. Instead, he’s quiet, giving me space to decide what I want to say, and what I don’t.

“I can’t stop thinking about her,” I eventually tell him, finishing off another berry.

He sets his food aside and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re carrying the weight of this like it’s your fault,” he says. “But it’s not.”

“I brought her here. Because of a stupid bracelet.” I motion to the delicate sapphire bracelet around my wrist—the one thing my mother’s ever given me—suddenly hating the piece of jewelry that I’ve always loved. “If I’d just left her back in Presque Isle, she’d be safe right now. Not—” My chest tightens, and I force myself to take a shaky breath. “Not wherever that dark angel took her.”

“We have every reason to believe she’s still alive,” he repeats what he told me earlier, as if he’s trying to will the truth into the world. “After our deal is completed—when I’ve given my father the potion, and the Winter Court is stable again—we’ll do what we can to find her.”

I want to believe him.

But all I can see as we finish off the food is Zoey’s terrified face as that dark angel carried her away.

“Try to sleep,” he says once we’re done eating. “Ghost and I will keep the first watch.”

I laugh bitterly. “Sleep. Sure. Like that’s going to happen.”

He gives me a pointed look. “You need rest. You’re no good to Zoey—or to yourself—if you don’t take care of your body.”

“I can’t just turn my brain off,” I say, pulling my knees tight to my chest. “Every time I close my eyes, I see her. I hear her scream. I can’t just forget.”

“Here.” Riven reaches into his pack and pulls out a familiar vial of dark blue liquid. “This won’t make you forget. But it will help ease your mind.”

I bolt upright, my exhaustion forgotten as fury surges through me. “You want to drug me?”

“It’s the same relaxation potion I gave Zoey,” he says. “You saw how it helped her?—”

“No.” I glare at him. “I will not take something to ‘relax’ me when I’m alone with you. Not after how pushy you’ve been with me ever since I got here.”

His expression darkens. “You think I’d—“ He cuts himself off, jaw clenching. “Is that really what you think of me?”

“For as long as we’ve known each other, you’ve made your intentions quite clear.”

“Unbelievable,” he mutters, shaking his head. “You think I’d drug you? That I’d—” He cuts himself off, exhaling sharply, his voice dropping dangerously low. “Trust me, Summer Fae. If I wanted you in my bed that badly, I wouldn’t need to resort to a potion. It ruins the fun if they’re not willing.”

The crude words hit like a slap.

“Wow. You’re a shining example of chivalry.” I glare at him again, shivering as the wind picks up around us.

“And you’re being ridiculous.” He runs his hand through his dark hair, frost crystallizing at his fingertips. “You’ve been awake for over a day. You’re exhausted, you’re emotional, and you’re no good to anyone—especially Zoey—if you can’t even think straight.”

“I’m fine.”

“You nearly fell off Ghost three times in the last hour.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“For the love of—” He takes a deep breath, the frost retreating from his hands as he tries to calm himself.

When he speaks again, his voice is steadier. “You don’t want the potion? Fine. But at least let me help you another way.”

I eye him suspiciously. “What way?”

“Breathing exercises. Meditation techniques. Things I’ve learned over the years from my training.” His lips quirk slightly. “Unless you think I can somehow seduce you through breathing exercises?”

Despite everything, I laugh. “I wouldn’t put it past you to try.”

“There she is.” His expression softens. “Come on. Sit down before you fall down.”

Too tired to argue anymore, I sink back onto the pine needles. Ghost curls up beside me, radiating warmth, and I hate how safe it makes me feel.

“Close your eyes,” he says. “Focus on my voice.”

“If this is some sort of trick?—”

“Sapphire.” The way he says my name—soft but firm—makes something flutter in my chest. “Just trust me. Please.”

I want to snap back that I don’t trust him at all. That I can’t trust him. Not when I’m hiding what I am, and he might turn on me if he discovers the truth.

But apparently not all of that is true, because I can’t bring myself to say it.

And, as frustrating as it is, I can only speak the truth.

“Fine,” I give in, sinking back onto the pine needles. “Show me.”

He crouches in front of me, his movements sharp and controlled, like he’s holding himself back.

“Close your eyes,” he says again, his voice softening slightly. “Focus on your breathing. In through your nose for four counts. Hold it for four. Out through your mouth for four.”

I do as he says, although my breaths are shallow and unsteady at first.

“Now, picture a box in your mind, going from one ear to the other,” he continues. “Inhale, imagining that you can breathe in through your right ear. Hold it inside the box. Exhale from the left ear. Then from the left to the right. Over and over.”

I try to follow his instructions, but my thoughts keep tugging back to Zoey—to her scream, and the terror on her face as the dark angel carried her away.

“It’s not working,” I eventually say.

“It will,” he insists. “You’re fighting it. Stop. Let your mind follow the rhythm.”

I bite back a retort and try again, focusing on the imaginary box and pretending like I can breathe in through my ears.

Slowly, the edges of my thoughts blur, the rhythm of my breathing pulling me into a surprising sense of calm.

His voice washes over me like waves on a shore, and despite everything, my body tingles as I feel myself drifting.

The last thing I register is Ghost’s rumbling purr beside me, and Riven’s quiet voice.

“Sleep well, Summer Fae.”