Page 19 of Fallen Star

“Easy there,” he says. “Don’t rush. It’s all about taking your time—feeling the texture, knowing when to press, and knowing when to let go.”

“Do you have to make everything sound so suggestive?” I snap.

“I’m just teaching you proper technique.” His smirk returns, and he leans casually against the table.

“Proper technique?” I raise an eyebrow. “That’s what we’re calling it?”

“You have to admit,” he says, stepping closer again, his voice dropping into that infuriatingly intimate range, “I’m very good at technique.”

It takes all my self-control to not rip the moss in half to show him exactly how I feel about histechnique.

But I don’t. For Zoey.

As we continue, the fact that her life is in my hands right now is the only thing stopping me from losing control.

“You have good instincts,” he says as I stir. “You can feel how the ingredients want to come together.”

I glare at him for that one.

At the same time, he’s right. It’s like the ingredients are singing to each other, and I’m simply helping them find harmony.

“There.” I hold up the finished potion, now a deep violet liquid that catches and holds the light. “Is this right?”

He examines it closely. “Perfect,” he says softly, all traces of teasing gone as he pours it into a satchel. “Better than I could have done. Now, all that’s left is the dove blood.”

He holds it out to me, and the satchel’s weight feels like more than just a potion—it’s the weight of Zoey’s life in my hands.

“Ready to hunt a dove?” he asks calmly, as though we’re heading out on a stroll and not preparing for what feels like the most important moment of my life.

I glance at Zoey, her shallow breaths rattling in the quiet of the cave.

Ghost is curled up beside her, his massive form a comforting barrier against anything that might try to get through.

I don’t want to leave her.

But I want to save her life. I can’t do that if I don’t trust that Ghost will keep her safe.

Plus, I can’t project, so one version of myself stays here, and the other goes with Riven. My real body would be a sitting duck if anything entered the cave. And I suspect that if my real self dies, my projected self will die, too.

As I remind myself all this, Ghost’s intelligent eyes remain fixed on me, like he’s promising he’ll keep Zoey safe.

“Watch out for her,” I tell him, and then I turn back to Riven, trying to stop myself from shaking. “Let’s do this.”

He nods, and together, we step through the frost ivy and into the night.

Stars scatter the sky, illuminating the forest in a way that feels both serene and ominous. And while the cold air bites my skin, the amulet of warmth wards off the worst of it.

I have control over air,I realize.Shouldn’t I be able to control the temperature of it around me?

Maybe. It’s worth a try.

Later.

When Riven’s not around to possibly see.

“Doves like edges,” he says as we walk. “Forests, water sources, shrubs. There’s a stream not far from here. We should be able to find one there.”

“For a prince, you sure know a lot about tracking birds,” I say, not seeing even a single sign of one of them nearby.

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