Page 22 of Fallen Star

Cracks splinter through the ice.

It explodes into shards, and the shattered pieces fall to the ground, leaving the forest eerily silent.

It’s done.

I killed it.

Just like how I killed that dark angel.

But I can’t dwell on that right now. So, I snap back into my body with a gasp, open my eyes… and find myself cradled in Riven’s arms.

His face is tight with barely controlled rage.

“This was how I found you that first night,” he says, sounding far calmer than he looks. “By the silver tree. I thought you hit your head and passed out. But you weren’t unconscious—you were projecting.”

“Yes,” I tell him, and as I look at him, I’m not sure why I didn’t tell him yet.

Although, we haven’t exactly had much time to go over the finer details of my ability. We’ve either been fighting, makingbargains, trying not to kill each other, or saving each other’s lives.

Not to mention the kissing.

I could never forget the kissing.

“I thought you hit your head,” he says, and beneath the anger, I hear something else. Fear? “I didn’t realize you just... die every time you project.”

“I don’t die.” I squirm out of his arms, which he doesn’t look happy about. “I go unconscious. And yes, it makes using the ability risky. I’m aware of that.”

“You should have told me.” His voice is tight and controlled, like he’s holding back an explosion. “We’re going on a dangerous journey, and you left out an important detail about how your magic works. Do you have any idea how insanelycarelessthat is?”

My heart jumps into my throat.

If he’s this angry about not knowing that my body becomes defenseless while projecting myself, I don’t want to know what’ll happen if he finds out about my air magic.

I have to divert him from this conversation.

Now.

“I don’t know much more about my projection magic then you do,” I quickly tell him. “But now you know what happens when I project. And I did what you asked. I killed that thing. It’s done. We can move on now.”

“That’s your defense?” His voice rises again. “You think you don’t owe it to the people you’re working with to mention that an important ability of yours leaves you—therealyou—helpless?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I snap. “Were we going to discuss the pros and cons of my magic while the Stalo was punching its way through the tree?”

“Don’t try twisting this around.” He moves closer, reminding me just how little space we have inside of here. “You had plentyof chances to tell me. But instead, I had to figure it out by watching you collapse like you were?—”

“Like I was dead,” I finish for him. “That’s what this is really about, isn’t it? You thought I wasn’t coming back. You were scared.”

His jaw tenses, and for a moment, I think he’s going to deny it.

“I thought you were gone,” he says flatly. “And that there was nothing I could do to save you.”

The vulnerability in his tone catches me by surprise, and I shift the satchel on my shoulder, buying myself a second to think.

“I’m sorry,” I finally say. “Really. I am. And maybe it wasn’t the ideal way for you to learn what happens to me when I project, but it’s done now, and I can’t change how you found out.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re alive,” he says, gathering himself back together. “You wouldn’t be any use to me—or to my father’s sanity—if you were dead.”

There he is.

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