Page 54 of Stolen Star

He stops pacing, his silver eyes finding mine. The vulnerability there—the rawness—makes my heart stop.

He breathes slower now, thinking.

“Maeris and Thalia are centuries-old summer warriors,” he finally says, each word precise and deliberate. “Highly decorated, known for fighting in perfectsync. They’ve survived wars together. You don’t split up a bonded unit like that—it’s tactically unsound.”

I nod, encouraging him to continue.

“I assumed pairing them was the smartest call,” he admits. “They’ve survived together for far longer than I’ve been alive.”

“That makes sense,” I say gently. “Anyone would have made the same decision.”

His fingers curl into fists at his sides, frost cracking around them. “But in hindsight, experience didn’t matter,” he continues. “Elemental balance did. If I’d paired each of them with one of us, we could have balanced their water with our air and ice?—”

He breaks off, his shame sharpening through our bond.

“And there’s something else,” he says finally, his voice dropping. “I didn’t want you out of my sight. And that—” his voice cracks “—that is where I failed Maeris. I let emotion cloud my judgment, and he paid the price.”

I reach for him again, and this time, he doesn’t pull away.

His skin is ice-cold beneath my fingers, and all that does it make me hold him tighter, steadier. Because colder doesn’t scare me. Silence doesn’t scare me.

Losing him does.

“Listen to me,” I say, pouring all my conviction into my words. “You made a call based on decades of tacticalknowledge. Like you said, Maeris and Thalia were a unit. It made sense to keep them together. This isn’t your fault.”

His gaze remains locked on where our fingers are intertwined, refusing to meet my eyes.

Thalia’s voice cuts through the tension, surprising us both. “She’s right,” she says, and when I look at her, I find her standing over what remains of Maeris, her expression unreadable.

I swallow, unable to find words. Because what could I possibly say? That everything will be okay? That Maeris died a hero? That his sacrifice will be worth it after we save the world from the Night Court and the Blood Coven?

Those words would feel empty. Because right now, none of that matters—not when the remains of her soulmate are scattering away in the wind. Not when those specks of ash might be the last parts of him she’ll ever see.

And so, I respectfully wait for her to continue, as grateful as ever for Riven’s hand in mine.

“Maeris and I have fought together for centuries. No one would have split us up.” Thalia’s eyes harden. “So, stop your self-pity, Winter Prince. Maeris died because these monsters were designed to kill, and today, one of them succeeded. If you want to honor him, help me complete this mission so his death wasn’t for nothing.”

Riven stares at her, his frost curling back inside him, his thumb tracing light patterns across my palm.

I love you.

As he traces the letters, I feel his guilt shift—not disappearing, but changing. Becoming something more complex. More resolved.

“You’re right,” he finally says to Thalia, and I squeeze his hand, the bond pulsing with shared love and determination.

He’s not the only one who loves with everything he has.

“We’ll make it count,” I promise, although whether I’m speaking to Riven, Thalia, or the scattered ashes of Maeris, I’m not entirely sure.

Thalia spins around without another word, heading for the crater with determined steps. Her shoulders are rigid, her body radiating grief that she’s trying to contain through sheer willpower alone.

I stay back with Riven, watching her go. Through our bond, I can still feel his guilt, raw and heavy. It’s deepened after what I said. Hardened into something dangerous.

“What’sreallywrong?” I ask him softly.

He stares at the place where Maeris fell, his silver eyes reflecting the embers still floating in the air. He’s so quiet that I don’t expect him to say anything. Not here, not when what he’s struggling with is so fresh.

“Maybe it wasn’t just strategy,” he admits, his voice so low I have to lean in to hear him. “Maybe I just made the wrong call.” His eyes find mine, and the anguish in them steals my breath away. “Maybe I just wanted to protect you.”

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