Page 62 of Golden Star

What Riven told me to do is crazy. Breathing in water isn’t natural. It’ll kill me.

Except… I’m not natural. I’m not human. I’msupernatural. And I have water magic.

Water can’t kill me. I won’t let it.

So, I don’t kick for the surface.

Instead, I open my mouth and let the lake rush in.

It hits my throat, my chest, and my lungs, filling them with freezing, suffocating water. It’s colder than anything I’ve ever felt in my life. Every nerve is on fire, my muscles locking as I thrash around, trying to fight it as the water crushes me from the inside out.

Black spots dance in my vision. I try to scream, but all that comes out is bubbles, rising in slow motion toward the surface.

Riven tricked me. I’m going to die at the bottom of this lake.

I doubt the fae will keep Zoey alive for long after I’m gone.

And it’s allhisfault.

I reach for the whisper stone, wanting to curse him with my final dying breaths, even though I can’t speak underwater.

His voice comes through again, low and conversational, clearly still having a casual chat with his knight.

My mother’s the one who taught me how to do this,he says.I was barely old enough to use my magic properly. Shebrought me to the edge of the Glacial River. You know the place? The water there runs so cold it’s said to freeze even the heart of a winter fae if they stay in it for too long.

My lungs scream, my body fighting the water as I try clawing my way back to the surface.

When I first breathed in the water, I panicked. I thought I was going to die,Riven’s voice continues in my mind.

Something about the way he’s talking—so calm, so unguarded—makes me pause.

He’s holding onto the whisper stone as he speaks.

Which means he wants me to hear this story.

Technically, he’s talking to his knight, but because of the stone, he’s also talking tome.

She told me I wasn’t breathing right. That the water doesn’t move like air,he continues to recount the memory.

Another pause as the knight assumedly replies.

That was the big thing that made it click for me,Riven says.She told me it wasn’t about pulling the water into my lungs. You can’t treat it like air. It’s heavier, more resistant. You can’t force it. You have to let it flow.

He’s not just telling a story.

He’s coaching me.

I try to focus, even as the pain in my chest sharpens, threatening to make my lungs explode from the pressure.

The hardest part wasn’t learning to breathe,he continues.It was trusting that the water wouldn’t kill me. My mother said, “You’re fae. Ice and water are your allies. The more youresist, the more they’ll fight back. But if you let them in, they’ll help you.”

I want to scream.

Instead, I stop fighting and let the water fill me. Not as an enemy, but as something that can help. And, as I do, I allow my mind to relax into Riven’s words.

There’s something so melodic about his voice—almost hypnotic.

I’m positive you can learn how to do it if you try.It’s all about diffusion. You don’t inhale like you’re breathing air. You let the water bring the oxygen to you, like how a fish uses its gills. Stop resisting, and you’ll catch on in no time.

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