Page 73 of Burning Star

“I did what was necessary to finish what I started,” I say after reining in the storm, keeping my hand steady as I extend the vial. “Drink, Father. Restore your clarity and be the king who forges peace with Summer to defeat the greatest threat this realm has ever seen.”

RIVEN

“No,”my father says, the word landing like a shard of ice. “You think me a fool? You think I can’t see the trap you’ve laid?”

“It’s not a trap,” Sapphire says, steady despite the tension. “It’s help.”

“Help from the Summer Court? From Lysandra’s daughter, who wed my son without my blessing?” A sharp gesture of his hand makes spikes of ice erupt around the room, one of them impaling a nearby knight in the process. Ice can’t kill our kind, but still, the result isn’t pretty—neither is his hair-raising scream. “You dare preach unity after creeping into my kingdom like a thief?”

I stand firm, even as frost causes an arm of one of the chandeliers to break off and crash to the floor with a crack that makes the closest guard flinch.

“You bring me poison dressed as medicine,” he continues, his voice rising. “You speak of unity while plotting to weaken me and take my throne!”

“Father—” I begin, but he slashes the air with one hand, ice forming a barrier between us.

“I will not drink your potion,” he growls. “I need no Summer filth in my veins. I am King Nivian of the Winter Court. My mind is as sharp as the ice I command.” His eyes snap to the guards. “Confine them.Now.”

The guards step forward, hands on their weapons.

Ghost growls, the fur along his spine bristling, while Nebula tenses beside Sapphire, her tail lashing in warning.

I exhale slowly.

Looks like it’s time for Plan B.

And while I knew this might happen, it doesn’t make what I’m about to do any easier.

“Enough.” My magic flares, a slushy mixture of frost and water spreading across the floor in a glittering circle, boxing me and Sapphire in.

The guards halt, uncertain, and I keep my gaze locked on my father’s.

“If you won’t drink the potion willingly,” I continue, “then prove you don’t need it.”

A hush settles over the room. The guards shift, hands tightening on their swords. Sapphire’s shoulder brushes mine, her presence anchoring me, as it always seems to do.

“What are you suggesting, traitor prince?” my father asks, his voice dangerously soft, ice lining the edges of his cloak.

I draw myself up to my full height, frost crackling along my arms, up my neck, and into my hair.

“I invoke the ancient right of the Winter Court,” I tell him, hardening the slush around me so it’s slicker than the ice I wield. “The Trial of Frost and Blood.”

Shocked murmurs ripple through the guards.

My father’s eyes blaze, outrage and disbelief flashing across his features.

“You dare?” he hisses, and ice crawls up the windows, the glass groaning under the pressure. “You challenge your king? Your own father?”

“I do,” I reply steadily. “If you refuse to clear your mind with the potion, then show the court that your judgment isn’t clouded. Prove you’re the king we need in this time of looming war.”

Sapphire’s fingers clamp around my arm, her nails digging into my skin.

“Riven,” she whispers, her voice tight. “What are you doing?”

I don’t answer her. I can’t right now. This is hard enough to do to him, let alone to justify to her.

So, I keep my eyes locked on my father, the icicles around him shaking with lethal unpredictability, the massive windows cracking from the weight of the frost.

“The Trial of Frost and Blood,” he repeats slowly, as if testing the words on his tongue. “You challenge me for the right to rule?”

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