Page 80 of Midnight Star

Eros continues as if I hadn’t spoken.

“Choose wisely.” He nocks a golden arrow to his bow, but he doesn’t draw it. Not yet. “Although I must say, both options are rather poetic. Either he’ll hate you with the same intensity he once loved you, or your love will grow until it drives you mad, knowing he’ll never feel the same.”

“This is ridiculous—” Riven says, but Eros cuts him off.

“This is justice. You both agreed to trade away something sacred. Now you’ll both suffer the consequences of that choice. The only question is... how?”

The wind howls around me, but I barely feel it. All I feel is the weight of the choice hanging before me and the threat of the arrows gleaming in the golden light.

“The answer is obvious,” Riven says, cold and precise. “Because if I hate her, I’ll likely kill her. And that would be rather counterproductive to our mission.”

The casual way he says it—like he’s discussing trade negotiations instead of our hearts—makes me want to scream. As it is, the stream surges toward my feet, water licking at my ankles as if it wants to drag me under.

Eros glances at it, but he seems unbothered.

“Always so calculating, Winter Prince,” Eros muses, studying Riven, as if he can see into his heart. Which, fairly, he likely can. “Even now, you reduceeverything to strategy and gain. Tell me, does it not bother you at all? Using her feelings against her like this?”

“She and I can each handle ourselves.” Riven shrugs. “Protecting her feelings isn’t my responsibility.”

I look to him, searching his eyes for some flicker of the Riven I know. The one who pulled me against him when the cold got too harsh, who let me break down in his arms when I thought I lost Zoey forever.

If he’s still in there, he’s doing a heartbreakingly good job at hiding it.

“You wouldn’t kill me,” I finally say, the words barely audible over the roar of my pounding heart. “Even if you hated me, you wouldn’t do it.”

His jaw clenches, but his gaze remains impassive. “Don’t be so sure.”

Eros chuckles, the sound rich with amusement as he twirls the golden arrow between his fingers. “You speak of killing her as if discussing the weather,” he says. “Do you truly believe you could do it? Take her life so easily?”

“If I hated her?” Riven’s voice is like ice. “It would be rather motivating. But I’m growing restless. So, if we’re done with this display, I believe you were about to shoot her with that golden arrow.”

Eros smirks at Riven, then turns back to me, looking eager to hear my response.

“We can’t risk him hating me,” I say, needing to tread carefully. “Especially since I already love him.”

I glance at Riven, hoping for support, or gratitude, or pride that I’m potentially agreeing to take this hit.

Surprisingly, he takes a step closer to me.

“You’ll be okay.” His voice is low but firm, cutting through my nerves like steel.

“I know I will,” I reply, and this time when I reach for his hand, he doesn’t pull back.

His grip is firm. Solid. And even though it’s not warm—because nothing about Riven has ever been warm—it’s steady.

That’s what keeps me standing here, my chin lifted, my gaze locked on Eros’s.

“Do it,” I tell the god, bracing myself for the strike.

Eros tilts his head, studying me, as if deciding if he wants to follow through. “Are you sure?” he finally asks. “Because I don’t think you fully understand what you’re committing yourself to.” He taps the golden tip against his lip, pretending to consider explaining further. “Let’s go over it, shall we?”

I bristle. “There’s nothing to?—”

“Oh, but there is.” His eyes darken, the playfulness draining from them like ink spreading over a page. “You think this will be bearable? That because you already love him, a little push in that direction won’t make much of a difference?”

The air shifts, the space between us thickening like honey.

Riven’s grip on my hand tightens.

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