Page 55 of Golden Star

Before long, I’m at the icicle, reaching for it and closing my hand around its base.

Thanks to my body heat, the ice starts to melt where my skin is touching it. Which means it’s now liquid water—the type of water I can control with my summer fae magic.

But it’s going to take too long to wait for my body heat to melt the entire top off this thing.

Heat up,I think to the water touching my skin, focusing as hard as possible on the warmth building in my palm.

It does.

The moment the icicle’s free, I inch back into a crouch and grip it tightly, feeling the solid weight of it in my hand.

The deer remains unaware of me, grazing on the frost-covered ground.

But the icicle will only remain a weapon for as long as it’s frozen. Which means I have no time to waste.

Zoey’s advice flashes through my mind.

Steady hands, quick aim. It’s not about strength—it’s about control.

I slow my breathing, imagining the air around me guiding the icicle’s path with precision, just like it helped me jump through the treetops.

I raise my arm, take aim just behind its shoulder where its heart should be, and release.

The icicle flies from my hand, slicing through the air with a silent, deadly grace.

It hits.

The deer staggers, its silvery fur stained red as it crumples into the snow.

And, thanks to a magical miracle that I somehow pulled from the stars—along with Zoey’s advice—dinner is now served.

Sapphire

The next morningcomes too quickly.

I wake up to the rustling of fabric, sitting up as the flap of the tent opens.

Riven.

There’s no smirk this time. No trace of the predator he usually is. Instead, there’s a deadly calmness to him as he steps inside, closes the flap behind him, and uses his magic to create an ice barrier along its fabric that will stop his knights from listening in on whatever he came in here to tell us.

Zoey stirs beside me, sees Riven, and shoots upright.

“What do you want?” I ask him, not in the mood for games.

“You look well,” he says to me in approval. “The meal I provided for you last night seems to have satiated you more than you claimed it would.”

“I was definitely satiated last night.” I keep my gaze locked on his, unwilling to let him get to me. “But it wasn’t from anything provided by you.”

“I’m sure that whatever satisfied you last night was a poor substitute for what I could have provided.” His eyes flash with amusement, that conceited smirk appearing on his face once again.

“Doubtful,” I shoot right back. “I prefer my men without a side of arrogance and blackmail.”

This only succeeds in making him take another step toward me, challenging me, trying to back me into a corner.

I don’t let him—even though it means there’s less than a foot between us now.

“You wound me, Summer Fae,” he says smoothly, his voice dripping with that practiced charm of his. But there’s also a darkness behind it—a dangerous edge warning me not to go too far. “But let’s not pretend you’re not enjoying our little games.”

---