23. Sapphire

Sapphire

Riven stares at the storm raging outside the wall of ice barricading the cave, lost in thought as he worries about Ghost.

I don’t like seeing him like this. It’s unnerving. Different from the Riven I’ve known since that night at the Maple Pig.

So, I walk over and settle beside him, relieved when he doesn’t stand.

“Tell me about Ghost,” I say, keeping a respectable amount of space between us. “How did you meet?”

He’s quiet for so long that I think he won’t answer.

“I was eight,” he finally says—still looking at the icy barrier and not at me. “Lost in the forest at the edge of Winter Court territory after sneaking out of the palace. I was angry at my father, for the fights he kept having with my mother. I thought if I ran far enough, I could leave it all behind.”

His words surprise me—both the vulnerability in his tone, and the fact that he’s telling me this at all.

“What happened?” I ask, curious, but also not wanting to push.

“Ghost found me. He appeared through the trees, like he was made of snow itself.” His fingers trace absent patterns in the frost beneath us, as if he’s back there in that forest instead of here with me. “I thought he was going to eat me.”

I try to picture Riven as a child, lost and terrified, staring into the eyes of a wild snow leopard. It feels wrong somehow—to imagine him vulnerable and helpless.

“But he didn’t,” I say, drawing him out of the memory.

“No.” He smiles, as if he’s watching it all happen again. “He just… walked up to me. Sat there, staring like he was trying to figure me out. Eventually, I stopped shaking long enough to reach out, and he let me touch him. That’s when the bond formed.”

“The familiar bond?”

He nods. “He led me back to the court,” he continues. “Saved my life. I’ve never doubted him since. No matter what, Ghost has always been there. Always.”

He says it as if he’s reminding himself that wherever Ghost is out there, there’s no way he’ll get lost in that storm.

“He found you once,” I say, wanting to be encouraging, but also not wanting to lie. “Which means he can most likely find you again.”

“He’d better.” Riven chuckles. “He’s my only friend. The only one who doesn’t care about titles or politics. Who sees me, and not my crown.”

My heart aches at the loneliness in his voice. “I always wanted a pet,” I admit. “Something to care for. But Aunt Martha refused. She couldn’t stand the thought of an animal ‘dirtying’ our home.”

“Ghost isn’t a pet.” There’s no anger in his voice, just certainty. “He’s my constant. The only one who’s always been there—who hasn’t become lost to me.”

My heart aches at what I suspect is going through his head.

His mother died.

His father’s losing his mind.

As far as I know, he’s an only child.

If he loses Ghost… I can’t help but worry something in him will break. Permanently. Just like what happened to his father when he lost his queen.

“We’ll search as hard as we can,” I say, and without thinking, I reach for his hand. “I promise.”

His fingers intertwine with mine, sending a rush of warmth through my body. And when he looks at me, the intensity in his silver eyes steals my breath away.

“Sapphire...” he breathes my name like a prayer, his gaze flickering to my lips.

My heart pounds, a chaotic drumbeat in my chest.

I don’t move away. Despite everything that’s happened so far, this feels different. This isn’t a deal we’re making, and it isn’t a bribe to blackmail me into doing what he wants.

It’s just me and Riven, in a moment of vulnerability, in a bubble of calmness sheltered from the storm raging outside.

The tension finally snaps.

He closes the distance between us, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that’s slow and deliberate.

Like he’s giving me a chance to stop him.

But I don’t. I can’t. The heat of his touch, the taste of him—it’s overwhelming and intoxicating, and I lean into him, gripping his shirt like he’s the only solid thing in the room.

The storm rages on outside, but in here, all I can feel is him. Every touch, every movement, pulls me deeper under his spell.

I don’t want to fight it.

I never wanted to fight it. Not really. I thought I should fight it, and I tried, but it wasn’t what I wanted.

But in here with him now, everything’s different.

“If you want to stop, tell me now,” he says, his voice a rough whisper against my skin. “If you don’t?—”

“No,” I interrupt before he can continue. “Don’t stop. I don’t want to stop.”

He pulls me closer, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I let myself forget about the storm, about Zoey, about the impossible journey to come.

Right now, all that exists is the way his body fits against mine, and the storm raging between us that’s far stronger than both the one howling outside, and the hunger growing steadily inside me.