6. Sapphire

Sapphire

I hesitate at the stream, even though there’s no room for hesitation.

This is my chance to get home. I have no reason to think Riven’s being honest about not being able to lie, but logically, it makes sense that this is the way home, since it’s the same way I got here.

So, I bring the water to my lips. It’s sharp and cold, and the world shifts beneath me, just like last time.

Unlike last time, I’m prepared.

Still, the landing is far from graceful. I stumble as my feet hit solid ground, and while I do fall, I don’t roll over and over. Instead, I catch myself—hard—on my wrist.

It snaps, and burning pain shoots through my arm, but I don’t have time to dwell on how much it hurts.

Instead, I run.

Not just run—I tear through the woods, the forest blurring as I pick up speed. By some miracle, I don’t crash into the trees.

Also, by some miracle, my wrist is already feeling better.

No—not a miracle. It has to be because of magic. My body’s healing itself, like it did after my near-death experience in the fae realm. And just like it probably did after that sledding accident with Zoey when I was a kid.

I have no idea where I’m going.

All I know is that I want to get as far away from that stream and silver tree—and from Riven and Ghost—as possible.

Branches snap behind me, and I push harder, but it doesn’t matter. The initial burst of adrenaline is gone. My body feels heavy, and I’m slowing down, the exhaustion hitting me like a sledgehammer.

Before long, they’re in front of me.

Ghost, as massive and calm as ever, with Riven perched on his back.

I skid to a stop, barely avoiding crashing into them.

“How did you…?” I glance around, confused about how they got in front of me so easily.

“I’m on a leopard,” he says simply. “You’re fast—impressively so—but he’s faster.”

I scan the forest, searching for an escape route, but it’s useless. Ghost can easily outrun me again. And Riven doesn’t seem like the type of guy who gives up once he’s set his mind on something.

Right now, he’s clearly set his mind on me.

“I thought you didn’t want to see me again?” I ask instead.

“I told you that my business in Presque Isle is done. I never said I wouldn’t return.” He studies me like I’m a bird in a cage, and I shift uneasily in place. “Words, Summer Fae. You have to think about them—not just hear them.”

I glare at him again—I seem to be doing a lot of that recently.

“I don’t have time for this,” I tell him. “If I’m not home when my aunt wakes up, she’ll be furious.”

“Then let me take you home,” he offers. “After all, that was part of our deal.”

I want to tell him no. That I’m not telling him where my house is.

But I feel that familiar, cold prickle on my skin. Frost. It’s crawling over me, latching onto me, warning me.

If I don’t follow through with this deal, it’s going to consume me.

Plus, there’s no denying that I’m lost. At the rate I’m going, I won’t get home before sunrise—which is when my aunt wakes up—anyway.

“Fine,” I give in, and then I tell him how to get to my house .

The threatening frost disappears as I do.

“Fantastic,” Riven says, motioning to the place behind him on Ghost’s back. “Climb on.”

With a sigh of defeat, I step forward and awkwardly make my way up to Ghost’s back.

The leopard’s skin is surprisingly cool, his muscles shifting as he adjusts to the added weight.

Riven glances back at me, making sure I’m situated. “Now, I recommend you hold on,” he says, and I wrap my arms around his waist, my pulse quickening as I feel the cold, hard planes of his body beneath my hands.

He doesn’t react. He just nudges Ghost forward, and we take off, the world blurring around us as we speed through the woods.

My grip tightens around Riven’s waist, and there’s something about this moment—his back against me, the rush of the wind, the rhythmic pulse of Ghost’s run—that feels oddly intimate. Maybe even more so than when we kissed.

No— nothing can feel as intimate as that kiss.

But this is close.

Eventually, the trees thin, and my house comes into view. It’s modest—one floor, with wood siding and a thatched roof—and I assume it’s unimpressive to Riven. But after everything that happened tonight, it’s good to be home .

“It’s safe to dismount,” Riven says coolly, not even glancing back at me.

“That’s it?” I ask. “No help down?”

“I’m an ice fae from the Winter Court,” he reminds me—as if I need reminding. “Not a knight in shining armor.”

“A surprisingly human reference,” I tell him.

“I’ve been around for a while.”

“Do you mean you’re immortal?” I ask, and when he twists around to look at me, his eyes are so cold that my breath catches in my chest.

“Answering your endless questions wasn’t part of our deal,” he says. “I’ve brought you safely home. Now might be a good time to remind you that from this point forward, I can do whatever I want to you.”

I swallow, since the things passing through my mind that I want him to do to me probably aren’t what he’s referring to.

Or maybe they are?

My cheeks flush at the thought.

“Get off,” he tells me. “Now.”

Annoyed, I shift my weight and swing my leg over Ghost’s back, jumping down onto the ground. My boots sink slightly into the snow, and I brush some dirt from earlier off my jeans, the sting of Riven’s dismissal prickling through me .

In a flash, Riven and Ghost disappear into the woods, like shadows swallowed by the night.

It’s almost like they were never here at all.

But they were here. The tingling feeling lingering on my lips from his kiss proves it.

And now, they’re gone.

Shaking my head—and trying to push down my disappointment at the fact that I’ll probably never see Riven again—I turn toward my house, the sight of it grounding me. It’s strange to think that just hours ago I was pacing around my room, angry and frustrated about my dead-end relationship with Matt. A difficult situation, but a normal one.

Now, nothing about me—or this world—feels normal.

But dawn will be here soon. So, I slip into my bedroom window—a skill I’ve perfected after many past-curfew nights with Zoey—and look around at the posters on my walls, my unmade bed, and the clothes strewn across the floor. Everything’s the same as I left it.

There’s only one thing in here that’s changed.

Me.

And after tonight, nothing’s going to be the same ever again.