Page 34 of Frozen Star
“There’s no time for explanations,” Riven cuts them off, silencing them instantly. He strides forward, silver eyes colder than ice, all traces of the passionate man from moments ago gone. “We’ll advance into the village immediately. Secure every house and street, but do not harm the civilians unless they attack first. Understood?”
The knights exchange brief, uncertain glances, clearly shaken by the unnatural way the night fae collapsed around them. Butno one dares question their prince’s command. Not when his tone is steel-edged, devoid of hesitation or mercy.
“Yes, Your Highness,” the captain of the knights responds, bowing his head. “And if they do resist?”
“Then deal with them accordingly,” Riven says without the slightest trace of emotion. “But if they surrender, you will guard their homes and ensure they remain inside until we have control of the palace. Civilian casualties will not be tolerated unless it’s unavoidable.”
He swings onto Ghost’s back with fluid grace, his eyes scanning the battlefield with tactical precision. There’s no emotion left in his expression—just command, pure and absolute.
I climb onto Nebula, responding to the tension radiating from Riven through our bond. His coldness is unsettling after the intimacy we just shared, but I force myself to focus. This is war. This is what we came here to do. And I’m not leaving this place without Zoey.
Once we’re moving, Riven turns back to me, his eyes meeting mine, searching for something. Approval, reassurance, or maybe even forgiveness.
“Let’s finish this,” I say through the tightness in my chest, and we move forward toward the Night Court’s palace, leaving the battlefield-turned-graveyard behind us, the weight of what we’ve done settling heavy and permanent in our wake.
SAPPHIRE
The Winter Court army moveslike a tide of steel and frost, surging toward the Night Court’s palace. Riven and I lead the charge, Ghost and Nebula’s powerful strides eating up the ground between us and our destination.
The palace’s dark spires twist against the morning sky like claws reaching for heaven. But it’s the moat that makes my breath catch.
The smell hits me first, a metallic, unmistakable scent that makes my fangs ache inside my gums. Because the moat is filled with blood. Watered-down blood, as if the night fae are paying homage to both their vampire and fae sides, but blood, nonetheless.
As Riven and I thunder across the bridge, I catch sight of our reflection in the scarlet mirror below. Two figures on their feline familiars, weapons gleaming, faces spattered with enemy blood.
Realization settles in me like a stone. Because this is who we are now. Warriors who wear death like armor. Monsters who carve paths through frozen battlefields and leave graveyards in our wake.
“Sapphire,” Riven calls out, his voice cutting through my spiraling thoughts. “Stay focused.”
I tear my gaze from my bloody reflection and grip the Star Disc tighter. Because he’s right. There will be time for self-reflection later. Right now, I’m doing what Celeste chose me to do, and I will not fail.
“Now.” Riven’s eyes meet mine, his magic swirling around him in a mix of ice, water, and air.
With a nod of understanding that echoes through the bond, I call upon my magic. Water roars to life, ice crystallizes in the air, and wind whips around me like a storm.
Together, Riven and I unleash our powers, and the palace gates explode inward.
Night fae guards rush to meet us, their wings spread wide, wind rushing around them as they form defensive formations. But they don’t stand a chance. Because the Star Disc is in my hand, its magic thrumming through me, ready to destroy anything in its path.
When I throw it, the Disc cuts through the night fae like paper, leaving trails of starlight in its wake. Riven’s blade carves deadly arcs through the air, scalding water spreading from each strike to burn his enemies before they can even scream.
The night fae are overwhelmed by the winter army, and before long, all of them are dead.
We push through the palace doors and storm through corridors lined with obsidian and shadow, below the chandeliers floating overhead, our army flowing behind us like an unstoppable force of nature. Any night fae who tries to stand against us falls within seconds, their luxury-softened hearts no match for winter warriors trained in combat.
Thanks to Riven’s meticulous interrogation of Zythara in the cave, he knows the layout of the palace. He glances at me once, nodding toward the grand doors at the end of the hall, slabs ofblack stone carved with intricate patterns that seem to writhe in the candlelight.
The throne room.
Together, we blast through the doors with a surge of ice, water, and wind that sends chunks of stone flying. A few knights trail behind us, but most of the others are already making their way through the palace halls, taking down any attackers before they can gather enough numbers to launch a coordinated attack.
Inside the throne room, four figures wait on the dais.
I recognize each of them from Zythara’s descriptions.
King Thanatos sits on his throne, his midnight eyes blazing with fury and something that might be fear. Queen Ravenna stands beside him with regal composure, frost patterns racing along her skin. Prince Malakai crouches like a predator ready to spring, his wings twitching with barely contained violence. As for Princess Mirena... she simply watches us with calculating eyes, her posture poised but not aggressive.
“It’s over,” Riven announces, his voice colder than winter, his sword gleaming in his grip. “Your warriors are defeated, and your strongholds are overrun. You rule nothing now but death and memories. Kneel and live, or resist and die.”
