Page 69 of Midnight Star

So, gritting my teeth, I pull at the moisture in the air, wrapping it around the ice.

But the frost remains solid—unyielding.

I try again, pushing harder. But the ice doesn’t respond. My magic can’t touch it.

Eventually, I stop fighting it and turn back to Riven, my glare colder than the frost trying to kill me.

“Is this really what you want? Toforceme into giving in?” I say to him, even when I’m so cold that I can’t feel my arms or legs anymore.

The only things keeping me up are the roots wound around my body.

My anger at this point isn’t even because he was considering the dryad’s offer. I was even starting to believe we could get the sap, save his father, defeat the Night Court, and that he’d fall back in love with me in the process.

Now, I’m so enraged that he’s trying to control me with magicthat I’m surprised the ice isn’t melting from the heat of my anger.

Instead, each breath burns as the cold seeps deeper into my chest, crawling toward my heart, threatening to freeze it.

Black spots dance in my vision.

If I don’t give in, the frost is going to kill me.

“Fine,” I manage to say through my nearly frozen lips. “Yes. I agree to the deal.”

The ice retreats.

Warmth rushes back into my limbs, bringing with it a flood of pain.

Relief crosses Riven’s face, and I glare at him again, my anger razor sharp.

“You took away my free will,” I say, surprising myself by how calm I sound through the rage. “You used my gratitude for everything you’ve done for me against me. And I will never, ever forget that.”

He sucks in a sharp breath, as if my words were a knife to the heart, and the roots holding us down retreat.

Chryserra’s looking back and forth between us with a smugness that makes me want to throw a knife at her face. But I don’t. I don’t attack her with my magic, either.

I don’t care about her. The frost threatening to kill me is gone, but my heart still feels like it’s covered in ice.

Now that we’re free from the roots, Riven approaches me cautiously, as if every step toward me is a battlefield he knows he’s losing.

I’m so numb that I can’t move.

“Please try to understand,” he says, and his eyes, always so steady, flicker with a storm of guilt and determination. “We need that sap. I needed to keep you alive. This deal accomplishes both.”

“At what cost?” My voice breaks. “My trust? My ability to ever look at you the same way again? Because I was going to agree to the deal on my own. I was almost to the point where I could say it. Did you even think about that before using my gratitude tocontrolme?”

Guilt crosses his face, and for a second, I almost regret speaking to him so harshly.

Almost.

“Even if you were thinking about agreeing, you didn’tsayit,” he reminds me. “And every moment we argued about this, the more danger we were in, given that I’m awinter princeinSummer Courtterritory. My magic is weakened here. And I doubt the fae in theseouter regions care about the political consequences of attacking a royal visitor from another court. Case in point.” He motions to Chryserra, who’s leaning against her tree, looking painstakingly satisfied.

I frown, since he’s right—I hadn’t considered any political implications. I’m hardly fluent in the politics of fae courts.

Still, that’s not the point right now.

“That doesn’t justify what you did,” I say instead, fury heating my skin. “You manipulated me. You used my love against me. Youmademe say yes.”

He exhales sharply, his jaw tightening. “It was either that or let the frost kill you. And I couldn’t stand there and watch. Not when I had a way to stop it,” he says, and then he reaches for me, his fingers brushing my cheek.

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