11. Sapphire
Sapphire
“Wait—Riven—” I start, hoping to catch a glimmer of warmth, some hint of the man I met at the bar last night. The one who explained this realm to me, who made that deal with me to help me get home, and of course, who kissed me.
“You’ll be silent,” he orders, his silver eyes ice as they meet mine. “You’re lucky you haven’t been killed already. And you’ll address me by my title— Prince Riven.”
With that, the knight closest to me steps forward, places a makeshift blindfold over my eyes, and ties it securely.
The world plunges into darkness, and panic rises in my chest.
“Please, don’t,” Zoey begs, although she’s quickly silenced .
“Zoey?” I ask, praying the knight didn’t hurt her.
“Your companion currently has a blade to her throat,” Riven— Prince Riven—tells me. “One step out of line—from either of you—and she’ll be killed in a heartbeat.”
I freeze, as if I’m the one with a dagger to my throat instead of Zoey.
“Understood,” I say, ready to do anything they ask if it means keeping my best friend safe.
“You will not speak,” Riven says. “Either of you.”
I say nothing.
After all, that’s what he just told me to do.
“Good,” he says after a few painfully long seconds. “Now, we’ll begin our walk back to the palace.”
A heavy hand grips my arm, and I’m forced to move forward, stumbling over rocks and roots, my steps clumsy without my sight. I can hear Zoey being led somewhere close by, her breathing terrified and ragged.
We walk for what feels like hours. Each step disorients me further, and the hand gripping my arm never loosens, not even when I trip over root after root.
My heart pounds with every step. Not just from the physical exertion of using so much magic earlier, but with the overwhelming sense of betrayal and confusion.
Riven told me there were others in the Winter Court who would kill me for what I am.
He failed to inform me that he was included in those “others. ”
He also failed to inform me he was a prince.
But the one thing giving me hope is that if he wanted to kill me and Zoey, he easily could have back in that clearing. He didn’t. I’m not sure what will happen when we talk to the king—I’m guessing nothing good—but at least we’re alive.
For now.
Eventually, the scent of the forest fades, and we’re walking on stone instead of the uneven earth.
“We’re approaching the town,” Riven says. “Do not speak. Make no sudden moves. The townsfolk respect me and my knights, but they’re still winter fae at heart. Cruel and dangerous. If you want to live, do nothing to make them view you as more of a threat than you already are.”
I hardly consider Zoey and I threats, but I keep my mouth shut.
Thankfully, Zoey does the same.
As we continue along the cobblestone, I hear whispers, shuffling feet, and gasps as we walk by. The sensation of eyes on me burns my skin, and while it’s impossible to catch what most of them are saying, I do hear bits and pieces.
They don’t look like warriors.
They must be prisoners.
Spies?
Are they the ones they’ve been hunting? From outside the border?
It goes on and on.
“Keep moving,” Riven says from somewhere close behind me.
The knight guiding me fails to mention the steps ahead, so I stumble as he leads me up.
At the top, we stop.
“Open the gates,” Riven commands, and I hear the heavy creak as the gates swing open in front of us.
The air changes instantly—cooler, crisper—and the whispers of the winter fae fade behind us. The sound of our steps bounces off the walls as we continue forward, through what I assume is a long hallway.
Not only does it feel cold—it smells cold. Like freshly fallen snow.
Then, suddenly, we stop.
“Tamsin,” Riven commands. “Inform the king that we need an audience in the throne room immediately.”
A deep voice answers—one of the knights we’ve been traveling with. “Yes, Your Highness.”
Footsteps echo as he hurries away.
I hear Zoey shifting slightly, and I reach out, brushing my fingers against her hand to let her know I’m here.
She squeezes my fingers in return, a silent acknowledgment of solidarity.
Neither of us dare say anything. Not when speaking might end in death .
The wait feels endless. Silent. My senses have been stolen away from me, and all I’m left with is cold, overwhelming fear.
Eventually, the door in front of us creaks open.
“Move,” a voice orders, and the knight gripping my arm tugs me forward.
I stumble over the threshold, my legs heavy and unsteady, as murmurs echo through what I assume is the throne room. I hear the rustling of fine clothes, the soft clinking of jewelry, and feet shuffling.
A crowd is gathered.
And while I can’t see the king, I can feel his presence—power radiating through the room like a chill seeping into my bones.
“Father,” Riven’s voice cuts through the stillness. “I bring a summer fae and her companion, who have trespassed onto our lands.”
A heavy silence follows, and I hear the rustling of the king’s cloak as he moves, perhaps shifting in his throne.
My pulse quickens.
It was supposed to be so easy—get the bracelet, then go back home before anyone knew we were here. But I should have known better. I never should have come back here. And I especially shouldn’t have brought Zoey with me.
This was all a giant mistake.
And now I’m living in a nightmare .
“Remove their blindfolds,” the king commands, and the knight beside me yanks the cloth from my eyes.
Blinking against the sudden brightness, my vision clears, and I find myself standing in the grandest room I’ve ever seen.
Towering walls of ice shimmer with magic. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and massive, silver pillars frame the frozen throne where the king of the Winter Court sits.
He’s more imposing than I imagined—tall and broad, with dark black hair framing his sharp, aristocratic features. His cloak of white leopard fur drapes over his shoulders, and his eyes fall on me first, then flicker to Zoey.
His eyes are silver, like Riven’s. But the similarity ends there. Because the king’s eyes are wild, feral, and cruel in a way that makes me feel he’s an animal ready to hunt.
And the people he’s ready to hunt are us.