Page 48 of Golden Star

Something that gives him serious pause.

“And what will happen if the girls escape during these trials?” he finally says, and I release a slow breath of relief that he didn’t say no.

“They won’t escape.” Riven offers a small, calculating smile, his cold eyes glinting with a dangerous confidence. “My knights will be with me at all times. And, most importantly, I’ll have Ghost by my side.”

Ghost purrs at the mention of his name, his tail curling behind Riven’s legs.

“If you think a human and a summer fae could possibly escape me, my knights, and Ghost, then perhaps you doubt the strength of the Winter Court,” Riven continues smoothly.

The nobles shift uncomfortably, stealing glances at the king, Riven, Ghost, me, and Zoey.

“I will ensure these trials unfold exactly as planned,” Riven presses on. “And they will serve as a warning to anyone who dares cross us again.”

The king’s grip tightens on his cloak draped over his shoulders.

It isn’t going to work. He’s going to lash out again—unleash the fury he’s barely keeping in check.

But then, slowly, his lips twist into a cold smile. “Very well,” he says. “Let’s not waste any more time. The trials will begin now.”

Riven steps forward, cold calculation gleaming in his eyes. “Before we proceed, Father, we should make an official agreement,” he says. “An oath that if they make it to the silver tree, they will not be hunted once they cross into their realm. We do want them to have the motivation to try, after all. It would be quite boring otherwise.”

“Motivation?” The king’s laughter echoes through the room, harsh and sharp. “They don’t need motivation.”

He scans the gathered fae, zooms toward one of the men, and drives his blade through his throat.

Blood spurts everywhere.

Zoey gasps, and I bite back a scream.

He hits the ground, and his gurgled cries silence, blood pooling beneath him.

The men and women of court silence, too, all of us watching as the king steps over the man’s body.

“Here’s the only deal I’m making,” he snarls, and he’s talking to me and Zoey now—not to Riven. “You either enter these trials, or you die right now.”

I can’t move, can’t breathe. But despite feeling like the world is closing in around me, I force myself to stay calm.

There’s no negotiating with this man.

He’s too far gone. Too twisted by his own madness.

All we can do is play his game and hope to win.

“Sapphire,” Zoey says my name, her eyes burning with fierce determination. She looks more alive than she has since we were locked in that tower. “We can do this.”

“We can try,” I reply, since unlike her, I can’t lie.

The king sheaths his sword with a flourish, as if killing one of his own men was nothing more than a casual inconvenience. “So, you both agree,” he says, although he doesn’t wait for a response—he simply turns to the knights lining the walls instead. “Escort them to the lake, where they’ll face their first trial.”

“Father,” Riven cuts in again, and all eyes return to him. “Look at them. They’re weak. Pathetic. The trials are meant to be slow and painful. They’re supposed to unravel the cores of who they are. If they’re too weak to survive even ten minutes into the first trial, their suffering will be over too soon. Where’s the satisfaction in that?”

The king freezes, his cruel smile faltering as he regards his son.

Riven only smirks back, as if they’re engaging in a silent battle—one that will determine which one of them is crueler and more twisted.

Horror washes over me at the reminder that I’ve kissed those lips.

Twice.

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