Page 4 of Burning Star

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep once we’re out of here,” I tell her, unsure if I’ll be able to bear it if she does.

Don’t save me now only to let me drown again,I think, although I keep that one to myself. I’ve already been vulnerable enough for the day. There’s no need to throw anything more on her—to make her feel guiltier than she already does.

“I’m not promising anything,” she says, pulling herself flush against me. “I’m telling you that right now, I choose us. I chooseyou.I willalwayschoose you.”

Then, she kisses me.

And I break.

This isn’t like the last time. No—this time, it’s a defiance of fate. A rebellion against the gods who want to tear us apart. It’s ice and water swirling violently before melting into each other, pulling us into something inescapable.

But maybe I don’t want to escape.

So, I grip her waist, pressing her against me as if I can hold onto this moment long enough to make her stay.

She’s so warm. Soreal.Especially when her magic surges, wrapping around me like a current, dragging me deeper into something that will destroy me when it ends.

Because when we surface, her hatred will snap back into place. She’ll look at me the way she did after Eros’s arrow struck—like I’m the worst thing that ever happened to her. Like she wants to tear me apart with her bare hands.

And I’ll have to let the ice creep back in. I’ll have to be cold again, even though this moment is the only thing that’s made me feel alive in days.

But I don’t stop.

I can’t.

All I can do is hold her closer, tangle my fingers through her hair, and breathe her in, as if her light can fill the empty space in my soul. Because in this place where fate has already decided we’re doomed—where my feelings for her can’t be used against me, where her eyes don’t burn with pain when she touches me—she’smineagain.

And, gods help me, I’ll take it.

Even though it’s going to ruin me.

But just as I’m losing myself in her completely, the ship lurches, ripping down in a freefall that sends us crashing onto the deck.

I grab her on instinct, my arms wrapping around her waist as the world tilts.

“Hold on!” I shout, reaching for the nearest rope, gripping it with everything left in me as the ship’s bow dips dangerously downward.

If we fall, we’re dead. We’ll crash to the bottom of this endless void—if there even is a bottom—and I won’t let go of her. Not now. Not ever.

Because if we go down, we’ll go down together. Just like in that final vision.

So, I close my eyes, bracing for the impact.

And then, with a final, bone-jarring jolt, we stop.

The ship creaks, settling into soft sand, and silence echoes around us.

When I open my eyes, the first thing I see isher.

Sapphire is tangled against me, her breathing uneven, her fingers curled into the fabric of my shirt. A few strands of her white-blonde hair have come loose, fanning across my chest, the blue highlights on its ends glowing with the celestial shimmer of the Tides.

She’s alive. Thank the gods, she’s alive.

For a brief, reckless second, I almost pull her back in and kiss her again.

But my training shoves the thought out of my head.

Assess. Locate. Secure. Survive.

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