Page 32 of Stolen Star

She deserves my strength—not my ruin.

As we approach the park’s exit, a lone figure comes into view, leaning against a lamppost. A woman with wild, dark hair that seems to move with a breeze that isn’t there, dressed in sleek black clothing that suggests both modern fashion and something timeless.

I study her, unease rippling through me. There’s something off about her—a vibration in the air around her, as if her presence disturbs reality.

When she spots us, her lips curl into a knowing smile.

“Lysandra’s envoy finally arrives,” she says. “I was beginning to think I’d been stood up.”

“You must be T,” Maeris says, although he doesn’t lower his guard.

“The one and only,” the woman replies with a slight bow. “I’m your pilot, guide, and general guardian through the tedium of mortal travel.”

Magic hums around her—but not water. Not ice. Not anything I can name. It feels like a hurricane mid-spin, or lightning about to choose its target.

My grip tightens on my sword, frost spreading down the hilt.

“Something wrong, Your Highness?” T asks, her strange eyes fixed on me. They shift like storm clouds—gray one moment, and almost electric blue the next. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I force my expression into neutrality. “Just eager to get moving.”

“Yes, well,” she says, glancing at her watch. “We have a flight to catch. The private airfield is waiting, and I don’t like to keep my baby waiting.”

“Your baby?” Sapphire asks.

T’s smile broadens. “My plane. Custom modified G650. The fastest way to get from here to there without...” She trails off, making a vague gesture with her hand. “Well, other means.”

Maeris steps forward, spirals of water hovering around his wrists. “How experienced are you with flying?” he asks.

T’s expression darkens, and the previously clear sky rumbles with thunder.

“Better get moving before this storm gets worse.” She raises her hand, pointedly ignoring Maeris’s question, and a yellow taxi van pulls to the side of the road next to us. “Our chariot awaits.”

Sapphire’s fingers lace with mine, water and ice swirling together in response to our shared unease.

“She’s not what I expected,” she whispers.

“She’s not what anyone expected,” I reply under my breath, my eyes fixed on T. Not out of awe, but with calculation. Watching, measuring, and deciding what I’ll do if she turns out to be a threat.

Because if she puts Sapphire in danger, I won’t hesitate.

T opens the taxi door with a flourish. “In we go. Time is wasting, and storms wait for no one,” she says. “At least, not when I don’t want them to.”

We climb in, the city lights flickering across Sapphire’s skin as she settles beside me. She looks like something out of myth, leaving me breathless at the fact that this beautiful, star touched warrior—the one I knew would unravel me from the moment I saw her in that bar—ismine.

Or, more accurately, that I’m hers.

Once we’re situated, the taxi pulls away from the curb.

“Sicily awaits,” T says cheerfully, lowering the window. “I hope you’re all ready for a little adventure.”

But I’m barely listening. Because my hand has already drifted down, fingers tracing the ridged edge of the compass beneath my waistband.

T was wrong about one thing.

Time doesn’t wait forno one.

Not when it bends tome.

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