Page 44 of Golden Star

The throne roomis as grand as I remember. Its towering ice walls shimmer with magic, and massive chandeliers hang from the ceiling, their jagged edges dripping with frozen crystals, reflecting light in a way that makes everything seem both beautiful and dangerous.

Sort of like Riven—and all the other winter fae gathered in the room. Beautiful, cold, and dangerous.

Zoey’s quiet next to me, but I can feel the tension radiating from her. The tremble in her hands, and the sharp breaths she’s trying to keep steady. I’m sure I look the same.

Before us, the throne looms, carved entirely from ice. Its edges are sharp and cruel, mirroring the wild, feral look in the king’s silver eyes, and I know that one wrong move could mean death.

Riven’s next to him. He’s different than his father—stiff and controlled, any trace of emotions wiped from his face.

At least when I was in his room last night, he looked devious. Demanding. Teasing. Maybe even passionate.

This robotic version of him somehow makes me more uncomfortable than I felt after our kiss.

He’s wearing the jacket he gave me. He took it back when he fetched Zoey and me from the tower a bit ago. And, of course, Ghost is by his side.

Out of everyone in the room, the snow leopard is the only one looking at me kindly.

The king’s gaze flicks between me and Zoey, and I fight the urge to shrink back. But I don’t. I will not let this man scare me.

At least, I won’t let himthinkhe’s scaring me. Because anyone in their right mind would be scared of him.

He rises from his throne, his white fur cloak brushing the floor as he paces like a mad scientist coming up with a wild scheme. It’s like he’s completely unaware of anything other than his thoughts.

A few of the fae nobles shift uncomfortably. They won’t look at Zoey or me, but they won’t look at the king, either.

“I think I’ll make a spectacle of your death,” the king starts, continuing his pacing. “A public execution. A show for the court.”

Zoey sucks in a breath beside me, but she doesn’tspeak. We both know better than to provoke the king right now.

Riven also remains silent. As does everyone else in the room.

The king’s pacing quickens, his fingers twitching, as if already imagining the ways he’ll carry out our execution.

“A show…” His voice trails off, distant, like he’s not even talking to us anymore. “I can see it now. But you know what would be even more fun? For both of you to see it, too. A demonstration. So you’ll know what’s coming.”

Slowly, he draws the long, curved blade from his weapons belt.

I’m frozen, my blood like ice through my veins.

“First,” he begins, soft and menacing. “I’ll sever your tendons. Slowly. One by one. Starting with the legs, of course.”

He lunges at one of the knights standing in the row next to his throne, his sword moving with lethal precision as he slices the blade cleanly through the fae’s knee.

A woman’s scream echoes through the chamber as the man’s blood spills across the icy floor, a stark red against the glistening white. He looks to her, and from the pain splattered across his face, I can tell she’s someone he loves.

Two of the other knights flinch, but they make no moves against their king.

Riven’s face is a mask of calm.

I’m shaking almost as much as the man on the floor. My breaths come quickly, and a breeze stirs around us, as though someone turned the air conditioner onto full blast. And on top of it all, my stomach growls, as if now’s the best time to remind me about how famished I am after all those days in the tower. How every bone in my body feels hollow.

Murmurs echo amongst the fae, and I try to steady my breathing, along with the pounding of my heart and the cries of my empty stomach.

I don’t want the king to sense my fear.

The room becomes still once again—minus the woman’s quiet sobs as she cries in the arms of the person next to her.

The king simply smiles at her, excitement dancing in his cruel eyes. “Before you can heal, I’ll move on to your arms,” he continues. “I’ll make sure you feel each snap as your body betrays you.”