5. Sapphire

Sapphire

“A deal?” I narrow my eyes, still on edge even though Riven’s possibly warming up to me.

Well, as much as a winter fae can probably warm up to someone.

“Yes,” he says, studying me with those sharp eyes of his. “This realm isn’t safe for you, especially if anyone else finds you here. You’re a summer fae, and if anyone from my court discovers you, they won’t hesitate to kill you.”

A chill runs down my spine at the gravity of his words, and I instinctively step back.

“You’re not exactly making me feel safe either, with all the sword-waving and accusations,” I say, apparently willing to test the limits of his newfound warmth now that he’s brought murder back into the picture.

“I put my sword away.” He arches a brow, challenging me. “I don’t intend to hurt you right now. But there are plenty of others around here who will. Which is why I’m offering you this deal.”

I hesitate, crossing my arms, catching the intricacy of what he said.

He doesn’t intend to hurt me right now.

It’s not the same thing as not intending to hurt me at all.

“What’s the deal?” I ask, since whether he’ll eventually want to hurt me or not, I need to hear him out.

“If you agree to stay in Presque Isle for a year, then I’ll bring you safely home,” he says, and I blink, processing his words.

“I don’t want to stay in Presque Isle,” I tell him, remembering Matt’s snide remark about how I was going to be stuck there for the rest of my life, just like he is.

“Then I guess you’ll be staying here.” He shrugs, as if it doesn’t matter to him at all. “A summer fae, in the Winter Court, surrounded by deadly creatures who will kill you simply for existing.”

I swallow hard, hating the thought of staying here, in this icy, deathtrap of a realm.

Maybe as much as I hate the idea of staying in Presque Isle for the rest of my life.

Actually, never mind. There’s no way I could hate anything as much as the idea of staying in Presque Isle for the rest of my life.

“It’s not exactly a dream vacation, is it?” he continues, apparently trying to drive his point home.

I frown, since unfortunately, I’m not well versed in “dream vacations.” My aunt hates traveling. Most people in Presque Isle rarely leave the state. Minus Zoey, but she doesn’t count. Her family’s rich.

And while the thought of not leaving Presque Isle for another year stings, I’ve already survived being stuck there for my entire life.

I suppose I can survive another year.

I sigh, crossing my arms tighter around myself as the cold bites at my skin. “Fine,” I say, hating that I’m saying it, but unsure what else to do. “I’ll agree to stay in Presque Isle for a year.”

Riven’s eyes flicker with something unreadable—satisfaction, maybe, or curiosity—and he nods. “Good.”

He extends his hand, waiting for me to shake on it.

Instead, I stare at it as if he’s going to try to slap me with it.

“Relax,” he says. “I’m not going to fling you to the ground, or push you into the stream, or do anything else that might be running through that pretty little head of yours. I just want to shake on it. Or else…” Amusement flickers across his eyes as he lets the sentence trail off.

“Or else what?” I ask .

“Or else we could seal it with a kiss.”

My eyes drop to his undeniably tempting lips, and a rush of heat spreads through me, sharp and unexpected.

I should laugh it off, or scoff at him, or roll my eyes.

Probably all three at once.

Instead, my breath catches, and for some inexplicable reason, the idea of sealing the deal with a kiss doesn’t feel like a joke. All it does is make my pulse race in a way it hasn’t since… well, ever. Not even with Matt.

His eyes gleam with amusement, but beneath them, there’s something darker. Something that tells me he doesn’t expect me to take him up on the offer.

It might be fun to surprise him. Throw him off balance.

Just like how he threw me off balance when he waved that sword in my face.

“Okay.” I straighten my shoulders, keeping my gaze locked on his. “Let’s do it.”

His amusement disappears, surprise taking its place.

Victory.

But he recovers quickly, tilting his head as a slow, lazy smirk spreads across his lips.

“As you wish,” he murmurs, stepping closer, moving so slowly that it’s like he’s trying to tempt fate.

The closer he gets, the more tension coils in the pit of my stomach. His presence is overwhelming—cold and dangerous. But there’s also an undeniable magnetism to him. Something that draws me in, despite every warning bell going off in my head that I should stay as far away as possible.

But I refuse to show any fear or weakness by taking it back.

He reaches out, his hand brushing a stray lock of my hair from my face, his fingers grazing my skin so lightly it feels like electricity.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, his voice low, almost a growl.

“I wouldn’t have said yes if I wasn’t.” I lean in, keeping my voice steady, even though my heart’s trying to beat out of my chest.

He smirks again, and I can tell he’s enjoying making me squirm. “You might regret this,” he says, and I don’t have time to respond before his lips brush mine.

His hand cups the back of my neck, pulling me closer as he presses his body flush against mine. A shiver spreads through me, every nerve buzzing with energy.

This is nothing like kissing Matt. It’s more intense, more captivating, and more magical.

I don’t ever want it to stop.

Then, I feel it. Something cold, physical, and alive brewing between us. Frost creeping along the line of my jaw, down my neck, and spiraling across my arms.

The kiss is no longer just a kiss. It’s a channel for something far more powerful .

“Riven—” I try to speak, but the words die in my throat as the icy tendrils slip across my body, cold and invasive. They wrap around my wrists and ankles, invisible chains binding me to him, threading through my veins like frozen fire.

I try to pull away, but it’s too late. The magic won’t let me.

The spell is taking hold, whether I like it or not.

Finally, he pulls back, but not far. His face is still close, our breaths mingling in the icy air between us as he gazes down at me, fierce and predatory.

I’m too breathless to speak. Too overwhelmed by the cold seeping through me, claiming me.

Like he’s claiming me.

“Ice magic,” he says softly. “That’s how the Winter Court seals its deals.”

The frost shimmers along my arms and wrists, fading as the magic settles. It’s inside of me now. A part of me. And while it doesn’t hurt, the sensation is strange, like I’m connected to something I can’t begin to understand.

“Is it done?” I finally bring myself to speak.

“Yes.” His eyes flicker with amusement, or triumph, or maybe even desire. “The magic will ensure you honor your promise. You’ll feel it if you try to break it.”

“Well, that’s ominous,” I say, suddenly feeling like an idiot for jumping into a fae deal without more information .

All I could think about was getting home.

Plus, none of this feels real. I wouldn’t be surprised if I woke up in the hospital soon. There’ll be a doctor hovering over me, telling me they found me in the middle of nowhere after I hit my head, and that they brought me in as fast as they could.

“Keep your promise, and you won’t have to worry about what happens if you try breaking the deal,” he says. “Although who knows… maybe I’ll stop by for another drink sometime.”

“Really?” My heart races at the thought, even though I hate it for doing so.

“You’re amusingly gullible.” He chuckles. “My business in Presque Isle is done.”

I glare at him—both for the gullible comment, and for the meaning behind his words. Because he clearly also means his “business” with me is done.

“That kiss was done to seal the deal,” he reminds me, as if it would be pathetic if I thought anything else.

“I know. It was for ‘business’ purposes,” I repeat what he told me—hopefully just as coldly. “Now, are you going to follow through with your end of the deal and get me back home?”

“I’ll follow through whenever I want,” he says. “After all, we never specified when I needed to get you home.”

My stomach drops.

He’s right. We never discussed exactly when he needed to bring me back. For all I know, it could be ten years from now.

But…

“You said you’d bring me back safely home,” I remind him. “And, according to you, I’m at risk of being killed every moment I remain in this realm. So, it sounds like you should get me home sooner rather than later.”

Ghost, who apparently sat down while Riven and I were having our moment, perks his ears up and stands.

Riven glances down at Ghost, then refocuses on me, sizing me up.

“An excellent point,” he says. “Maybe you’re not as gullible as I thought.”

Anger courses through me, and before I realize what’s happening, Riven’s getting splashed with more water from the stream.

He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move. He just holds my gaze with his increasingly intimidating silver eyes, daring me to try anything further.

“Careful,” he warns. “Unless you want me to bring out my sword again?”

My cheeks flush, and I step back, putting some space between us. “Can we just focus on getting me home?” I ask.

He watches me for a long moment, as though weighing his next move. Then he gestures to the stream—the wider, clearer part of it that I was drawn to before. “ Drink from that spot,” he tells me. “It will take you back.”

“Is this another trick?”

“When have I tricked you?” he asks in return.

Having no more patience for him, I huff, spin on my heel, and kneel before the stream.

It seems too simple.

Then again, I got here by drinking the water. Which means it makes sense that doing the same thing is the way to leave, too. And if it isn’t… when did a little bit of water ever hurt someone?

Except when I splashed it at Riven. Although I doubt that actually hurt him. Maybe it hurt his ego, but physically, he’s doing just fine.

“I told you that fae can’t lie,” he reminds me. “Which means I’m telling you the truth that the water will get you home. Now, stop sitting around, and drink.”