Page 69 of Stolen Star

“It’s okay to miss him,” I say quietly, squeezing his hand. “Even after everything. Especially after everything.”

His mouth curves slightly, although sadness lingers beneath.

“I don’t know what I feel right now,” he murmurs, something dark crossing his eyes again. “Other than that he’d tell me to stop wasting time and blow up the damn pillars already.”

“Then let’s blow up those damn pillars,” I say, and then I summon my magic, push it into the Star Disc, and send it spinning toward the first column.

Glimmercut slices through the stone like it’s butter, the column remaining upright only because time itself holds it in place. As always, it returns to my hand like a boomerang, and I repeat the process with the second column, then the third.

“Three minutes left,” Riven warns, the Compass’s ticking growing more urgent.

I throw the Star Disc one final time, watching it sever the last support before returning to my palm.

“Run!” Riven grabs my hand, and we sprint toward the exit, leaving the frozen beast and the compromised tunnel behind.

We’re twenty yards down the passageway when the Compass’s ticking accelerates, signaling the end of our borrowed time.

“Brace yourself,” Riven says, pulling me against him, his arms wrapping around me as his ice magic forms a shield at our backs.

Time lurches back into motion, the tunnel collapsing as the severed columns give way, thousands of tons of rock crashing down onto Orthrus.

The monster roars so loudly that I think it’s going to cause another cave-in. But it doesn’t have a chance, because it’s quickly silenced, buried beneath the mountain.

Then, the shockwave hits us, sending us tumbling forward, despite Riven’s shield. We roll across the roughstone, his body cushioning mine as dust and debris rain down around us.

For a long moment, we lie there in the settling darkness, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear. Only the faint glow of the Ember in my satchel provides any light.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, his hand moving to cradle my face. His palm is cold, but the way he holds me—like I’m something sacred, breakable, and irreplaceable—burns hotter than the magma behind us.

“I’m fine,” I assure him. “In case you forgot, I have this pretty incredible thing calledsupernatural healing?—”

He cuts me off with a kiss.

It’s not urgent or desperate. It’s reverent. Like he’s trying to memorize the shape of my mouth. Like he’s trying to memorizeme,to brand this moment into his bones, so he’ll have it if the rest of the world falls away.

“I know,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing across my cheek, “but that doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop making sure you’re all right. Not when you’re all I have left. Not when you’re the only thing holding me together.”

The absolute, unshakable depth of what he feels for me slams into me again, and I give his hand a gentle squeeze, my heart fluttering despite the chaos around us.

“I love you,” I say softly. “But let’s save the heartfelt moments until we’re not in a collapsing mountain?”

He gives me a quick, playful look as he stands,pulling me up beside him. “Fair enough,” he says, resting his forehead against mine, his voice lowering as he breathes me in. “I’ll get us out of here, and then you can resume your favorite hobby of melting at my feet.”

I smile, but something about the way he says it feels… off. Too smooth. Too carefully placed. Like armor he’s putting on piece by piece.

But he’s watching me, searching my face, as if he needs me to believe him. As if I don’t, something in him will break.

So, I steady my voice and lean into the familiar, giving him what I hope is something to hold onto.

“Just so we’re clear, I’ll only melt for you after we’re safely out of imminent danger,” I say, forcing a light smile.

He nods, that perfect smirk settling into place like it never cracked. “I’ll hold you to it, Starlight,” he says,but the bond stays quiet, even when I reach for it. “Now, let’s get out of here so you can properly thank me for my heroic efforts.”

I give him a mock-exasperated look. “Too much heroism, and your ego won’t fit through the exit,” I say, but instead of returning my comment with something equally as sharp, he squeezes my hand and turns to survey the damage.

The tunnel behind us is sealed. There’s no sign ofOrthrus, and no way back to the chamber where Thalia fell. All that remains is the way forward.

We’re making our way out when a roar shakes the mountain from the other side of the collapsed passage.

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