Page 83 of Midnight Star

Riven’s already moving, too—his sword a flash of silver as he hurries to my side, blade raised, ready to fight.

“A bold choice.” Eros laughs, nocking another gold arrow into his bow and releasing it. “One I can have fun with.”

The water from the stream surges up at my command, twisting around me in a liquid shield, but Eros’s arrow doesn’t just soar.

Itsplits.

One becomes two. Two become four.

They whip through the air in a storm of gold, their paths erratic, impossible to predict. And these aren’t just regular arrows. They’remagicarrows. Each one weakens my water shield, rippling it outward, making it harder to maintain.

One gets through.

I slash it with my dagger, stopping it mid-flight.

The moment all the arrows hit the ground, they roll toward each other, melding back into one.

Eros moves with otherworldly speed, his bow a blur as he looses another round of arrows. Except this time, instead of firing in a straight trajectory, they twist midair, moving like serpents zeroing in on their target.

That target isme.

I whip my hands up, calling on my air magic to shift their paths. The wind howls, sending several arrows veering off course, but one slices across my shoulder, another grazing my thigh.

I scream, the pain burning through me, but force myself to stay standing.

Because like Eros said, the magic only works when it strikes the heart. And—luckily—the arrows’ magic isn’t changing the speed of my supernatural healing.

As I recover, Riven’s sword is a lethal blur as he intercepts another volley of arrows. He ducks low, easily evading their paths, then rolls to his feet and knocks another aside.

The frost on his blade flickers, but his skill more than makes up for his magic being weakened in the Summer Court.

But Eros isn’t just fast. He’s methodical. And he’s apparently so fixated on making me experience the nightmarish picture of undying love he painted for methat he’s only using the gold arrows, and he’s not aiming for Riven at all.

They’re all directed toward me. Every single one of them.

And he doesn’t waste shots. He watches, adapts. He fires exactly where we’re vulnerable. And since we’re trapped in his dome-like arena, we can’t run. We can’t hide.

We can only fight. Until, presumably, he’s out of arrows and we can get close enough to him to slice him with our blades. Maybe we won’t be able to kill him—I’m obviously unsure of the technicalities behind killing gods—but we can hurt him, just like we hurt that night fae in the cave.

Meanwhile, Riven uses his sword to deflect another arrow that breaks through my water shield, snatching it up before it can fuse back together with the others on the ground.

“Take it,” he growls, holding it out to me. “Use it against him.”

“Seriously?” I say, creating a gust of wind so strong that it knocks the next group of arrows off course.

“Throw it like you’d throw your dagger,” he continues, as if he’s not suggesting something crazier than me trying to project myself into space. “Your aim is all but perfect.”

Frustrated by my hesitation, he forces it into my hand—the one that’s not holding my dagger.

I tighten my grip around it, my heart hammering,feelingits magic as it buzzes across my skin.

This is dangerous. Stupid.

But maybe just reckless enough to work.

“Guide it with your wind,” he continues to instruct, knocking aside another arrow with his sword as it hurtles toward me. “Don’t overthink it—just throw it.”

I don’t have time to argue. Because Eros has already nocked another arrow, his golden eyes flicking toward me, amusement curling at his lips.

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