Page 26 of Fallen Star

The moment Rivenand I step back into the cave, my heart drops.

Zoey’s as pale as the snow outside, her breaths shallow and uneven. It looks like the only thing keeping her from completely slipping away is Ghost, who’s curled around her, his fur pressed close, as if reminding her she’s not alone.

I rush to her side and drop to my knees, reaching for her, but stop myself.

I don’t want to touch her and hurt her.

Not when I’m so close to saving her.

Riven crouches beside me, assessing her with sharp eyes. “We’re not too late,” he says. “But we don’t have a second to waste.”

He hands me the satchel, and my fingers tremble as I uncork it.

The purple potion glows brighter now—possibly from the dove’s blood, or maybe from the way the ingredients have had time to properly merge. Either way, it pulses with magic, like it knows exactly what it needs to do.

Riven kneels beside me as I lift Zoey’s head, bringing the satchel to her lips. “Careful,” he says. “Too fast and she might choke.”

I shoot him a glare. “I know how to help someone drink something.”

He gives me an amused smile and sits back.

I don’t look at him. Instead, I tip the satchel, coaxing Zoey to drink.

The change is immediate.

Color rushes into her cheeks, her breathing steadies, and the bruise on her head fades.

I peel back the blood-soaked bandage on her arm, relieved to see that the gash there is healing just as quickly.

It’s working.

The potion isworking.

Finally, just when I don’t think I can take it anymore, her eyes flutter open.

“Sapphire?” she asks, and while her voice is weak, it’s there.

Tears spring to my eyes, and I throw my arms around her, as if I’m afraid she’s going to dissolve into the shadows if I don’t. “You’re alive,” I say in amazement. “You’re okay.”

“More than okay.” She hugs me back, then pulls away, examining her newly healed arm. “What happened?”

“We made a healing potion,” I tell her quickly. “Riven helped me gather the ingredients. There was a dove, and some moss, and a few berries, and?—”

“And your best friend is the most gifted potion maker I’ve ever encountered,” Riven interrupts, studying me with an intensity that takes my breath away. “Given how bad your wounds and infection were, it should have taken you hours to heal. Maybe days. But this took less than a minute.”

I shift under his scrutiny, feeling uncomfortably exposed. “I just followed the instructions.” I shrug, even though we both know it was far more complicated than that.

“No,” he says, quieting me. “That was more than just skill. It was the kind of talent that comes from a strong magical lineage. No exceptions.”

My heart leaps into my throat—panic about whether this “strong lineage” of mine has to do with the side of me that’s part vampire—but I force myself to meet his gaze.

“Or maybe I was just really determined to make sure Zoey didn’t die,” I finally say.

He doesn’t reply, but the way he looks at me—intense, searching—makes my skin prickle.

“Well, whatever you did, it worked,” Zoey interrupts, breaking the tension between me and Riven. “What happened while I was out? How long was I unconscious?”

“Almost two days,” I tell her. “That dark angel threw you into a tree and knocked you out. Then I fought him, and I…” I trail off, not wanting to get into the details. “I killed him and brought us here. Then Riven found us, and he helped me make the potion that healed you.”

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