3. Sapphire

Sapphire

The cave is cold.

Not the biting kind of cold that brushes your skin. Instead, it’s a deep, still cold that seeps into every crack and crevice, all the way down to your bones.

Frost coats the walls, its soft glow making it possible to see. Otherwise, we’d be in total darkness.

Zoey doesn’t stir.

I want to shake her. Force her awake.

But that would probably make things worse.

As for her wound—I can smell her blood. Sweet and spicy.

For now, my feast on that dark angel is still satiating me. But what’s going to happen when I’m hungry again? When I need fresh meat—or worse, fresh blood?

I don’t want to think about it.

I can’t.

As it is now, I need help.

And there’s only one person who knows where to find me.

My hands shake as I pull the whisper stone from my pocket. It doesn’t hum like it does when Riven’s holding the stone connected to mine, but I have to try.

“Riven?” My voice echoes through the cave, making me feel more alone than I already did. “I’m in the cave. I followed your directions. Zoey’s hurt. She’s burning up, and I don’t know what to do.”

Silence answers.

The stone remains flat and lifeless.

I tighten my grip around it, desperation clawing at my chest.

“Riven, please,” I beg. “We were being chased—there was a dark angel, and a branch monster, and a shadow monster. They would have killed us if I hadn’t…”

The memory of the dark angel flashes through my mind, and my throat tightens. His seductive eyes, and the way his blood tasted, rich and intoxicating.

“If I hadn’t stopped him,” I say instead.

Nothing.

I bring the stone closer to my lips, as if it can somehow amplify my voice. Make him hear me, even though he’s clearly not holding onto his stone.

“Zoey’s dying,” I tell him, hot tears welling in my eyes. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to save her.”

The stone stays cold and silent.

Anger bubbles inside me, hot and suffocating.

“Did you send us here to die?” I snap, resisting the urge to throw the stupid stone at the wall. “Was this a trap? Get me out of Winter Court territory and let the Wandering Wilds finish the job?”

As expected, there’s no answer.

I sink down to the ground beside Zoey, cradling the stone in both hands.

This isn’t working. And it’s not like a phone that I can reboot and try again.

Nothing I do will make it work.

I’m powerless. I have more magic than is supposed to be possible, and yet, I’m trapped, scared, and powerless.

“I trusted you,” I say, even though Riven’s obviously not listening. “I came here because you said it was the only way.”

The tears threaten to emerge, and I press my palm against my eyes, willing them away.

Crying won’t help.

Meanwhile, Zoey’s blood is creeping farther across the bandage with every passing minute.

Suddenly, as I gaze down at her, I remember—the amulet of warmth. The one Riven gave her in the tent before our first trial.

She was cold then. But she’s burning up now. Her fever needs to break.

Could the amulet be doing more harm than good?

I don’t know. But I’m desperate enough to try anything.

The clasp is cold, but the warmth of the charm radiates through my fingertips as I undo it and slip it off Zoey’s neck. The glow dims as I set it aside, and the air around her feels colder, sharper.

Hopefully it’s enough to break her fever without freezing her completely.

Please be enough.

Unable to do anything else—and desperate to escape the scent of Zoey’s blood—I stand and walk around the cave, keeping her in sight as I do.

Shelves have been carved into the walls, and they’re lined with bottles and vials of all shapes and sizes. Some are empty, and others are filled with liquids that glisten with an otherworldly glow. There are also dried plants, smooth stones, and something that looks disturbingly like old blood.

Riven said he and his mother used to come here when he was young.

Is this what they were doing? Making potions?

I pick up one of the vials, holding it up to catch the wall’s light.

The liquid inside swirls with an electric orange energy that makes my skin tingle. A blue one emits waves of calming energy, and a red one makes my heart race simply from looking at it.

What were Riven and his mom trying to do here?

I don’t bother asking the whisper stone. Clearly, I won’t get an answer.

So, setting the vial down, I sink onto a nearby stool, my head spinning. Not just from exhaustion, but from everything that’s happened. Everything I’ve learned about myself.

I thought discovering I was fae was overwhelming enough.

Now, I’m apparently part vampire.

A laugh bubbles up in my throat. One week ago, I thought I was human. Now I’m some sort of fae-vampire hybrid that can astrally project.

My hands shake as I rest my head against the workbench. I’m so tired. Apparently not even the blood of a dark angel can reduce my need for sleep.

Maybe if I rest—just a little bit—I’ll be able to think clearer. Figure out what to do next. After all, I’m no good to Zoey if I’m delirious.

Decision made, I walk back to her and sit against the wall, with my dagger resting on the ground beside me.

A few minutes of sleep. That’s all I need.

“Just for a little while,” I tell her, closing my eyes as the cold seeps into my bones. “Just enough to stay strong. For you.”

With that, my eyes drift closed, and darkness claims me before I can change my mind.