5. Sapphire

Sapphire

“Fugitives,” I repeat, the word tasting bitter on my tongue.

“Yes.” He holds my gaze. “So, if you’re having second thoughts about trusting me, now would be the time to voice them. Because there’s no going back. Not for any of us.”

I glance between him and Zoey.

Riven killed his own knights—men who served him and were loyal to him—to come help us.

Either he’s completely insane, or...

Or he really does want to help.

And right now, looking at Zoey’s pale face and blood-soaked bandages, I don’t have the luxury of questioning which it is.

“I’ll do it,” I say, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. “I’ll brew the potion.”

Riven doesn’t look surprised. If anything, he looks like he expected this.

Every muscle in my body tightens, immediately on edge.

“Good,” he says, nodding slightly. “But if we’re going to do this, we need to make a deal first.”

“You want to negotiate now?” My voice sharpens. “When Zoey’s right here dying?”

“You forget that she means nothing to me,” he says coldly. “I’m invested in you. You’re the one I need alive. Not her. She’s simply a means for me to have you.”

A breeze blows through the cave—one that could easily be blamed on coming through the frost ivy hanging over the entrance—but I know where it’s really from.

Me.

It’s my air magic. The type of magic only vampires should have.

I have to control it.

Riven can’t find out what I am.

So, I take a deep breath and pull my magic back inside me, refusing to let it come out.

Zoey’s life is on the line.

I won’t let her die because I lost control of my magic and let Riven discover I’m a monster.

“Tell me what you want,” I say once I’m confident I’ve gotten control of myself.

He stands and moves away from Zoey, clearly having forgotten about her already.

I stand as well, not wanting him to have the upper hand. He towers over me anyway, but it’s better than remaining on the ground.

“My father,” he says, strictly business now. “He’s not just cruel. He’s losing his mind. Day by day, he becomes more paranoid—more erratic. The court whispers about it, but no one dares speak against him.”

I think back to the wild look in the Winter King’s eyes when he wanted to execute Zoey and me. How quickly his mood shifted from calculated to murderous.

How he murdered his own people as an example of what he planned on doing to us, in front of everyone in that throne room, without blinking an eye.

“You want to be the one who stops him?” I ask, since it seems like a daunting task—especially when it’s his own father he’s talking about. “To kill him? To become king in his place?”

“No. Not like that. I’d never do that.” He runs his fingers through his dark hair, the tension in his shoulders making him seem almost vulnerable. “I’ve been working on a potion to make him sane again.”

“To heal his mind,” I realize. “Just like how we’re going to heal Zoey’s body.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” he says. “But I need it to work. The alternative is chaos. If my father continues down this path, he’ll destroy the Winter Court. And I’ll do anything to stop that from happening.”

“Including blackmailing me?”

“Especially including blackmailing you.” He steps closer to me, challenging me. “You’re the most gifted potion maker I’ve ever seen. More so than my mother. You don’t just follow instructions—you feel the magic. Now, you need the training and skill to harness that talent. To do things with it that are useful.”

“But you left the bar,” I remind him. “And when I fell into your realm and found you again, you brought me home and told me to never come back.”

“Only because I knew you wouldn’t listen. That you were smart enough—and determined enough—to find a loophole. Because I wanted you to prove that you have what it takes to survive around here.”

“I wasn’t the one who found the loophole.” I glance at Zoey, swallowing down the lump of tears in my throat. “She was.”

“She’s not useless,” he agrees. “But she’s not the one I need. You are. So, what do you say, Summer Fae? Do you want to hear my offer, or not?”

I glare at him again, since as much as I hate it, I need him as much as he needs me.

No—I need him more than he needs me. Which gives him an advantage when it comes to negotiating.

I hate him. I don’t care how tempting he can be sometimes—well, a lot of the times. I will always hate him.

“Fine. What’s your offer?” I ask, since if I want Zoey to have a chance, what choice do I have other than to hear him out?

His smirk flickers, but it’s gone almost instantly, replaced by a cold, calculating expression that makes me want to punch him in the face.

“You help me create the potion for my father—to the best of your ability,” he says, smooth and sharp as glass. “In return, I’ll help you create the potion to heal Zoey—to the best of my ability.”

I narrow my eyes at him, waiting for the catch.

With fae bargains, there’s always a catch.

“What about afterward?” I ask. “Because we need to get Zoey back to Presque Isle as soon as she’s healed.”

“To get her back to Presque Isle, we’d have to return to the silver tree, which is in Winter Court territory” he says. “But until I have the potion to help my father, it’s too dangerous to go back there. We’re fugitives—remember?”

“As if I could forget,” I mutter. “But she can’t stay in this realm. She’s not going to survive here. She’s…”

I gesture to her unconscious form on the ground, since it speaks for itself.

“She’s capable,” he stands firm. “She proved that during the trials. She’s stronger than you give her credit for.”

“I know she’s strong,” I say, exasperated now. “She’s good at anything she tries. And she tries everything. But she’s human. She’ll always be weak here, no matter how many random skills she has. She doesn’t belong in this world.”

“It sounds like I believe in her more than you do.” He shakes his head, as if disappointed in me.

“I believe in her,” I snap. “Just… let me think for a minute.”

“Think away.” He steps back, infuriating me as he does. “But remember—every minute you take is another minute your friend’s life hangs in the balance.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut.

He’s right. Of course, he’s right.

But it doesn’t make it any easier to accept.

However, I can’t just agree on the spot. Fae are tricky. I have to make sure there are no loopholes in his offer.

I square my shoulders, my mind racing. “I need specifics—every detail,” I tell him. “No vague promises or open-ended terms. I might be new to this realm, but fae deals are like razor blades. I’m not slicing my throat open on a technicality.”

Riven’s smirk returns, infuriatingly smug. “Smart,” he says. “You’re learning.”

“I might be ‘just a bartender,’ but I’ve always been smart,” I snap, although my anger isn’t totally directed at him.

Matt used the fact that I worked at a bar while deciding my college major—if I could even figure out how to afford college—against me. Because of him, I hate when someone assumes that what I do as a job means I’m not smart.

But I’m not talking to Matt right now.

I’m talking to Riven.

And I need to focus.

“First, you said you’d help me heal Zoey to the best of your ability,” I say. “What exactly does that mean? Because I don’t want you bailing halfway through because you think you’ve ‘done enough.’”

“It means I’ll guide you through the entire process,” he says without missing a beat. “I’ll provide the ingredients, explain the steps, and give you all the guidance I can to help you brew the potion correctly.”

“And what if something goes wrong?” I ask. “What if you’re wrong about the ingredients or the process?”

“I don’t make mistakes,” he says coolly. “Any mistakes made will be yours, as a result of not following my directions well enough. Which means that while we work together, you can’t afford to get distracted.”

His eyes linger over every inch of my body, and I can’t help it—I turn the humidity in the air into water and splash him in his beautifully arrogant face.