Page 30 of Golden Star

“We’re approaching the town,” Riven says. “Do not speak. Make no sudden moves. The townsfolk respect me and my knights, but they’re still winter fae at heart. Cruel and dangerous. If you want to live, do nothing to make them view you as more of a threat than you already are.”

I hardly consider Zoey and Ithreats,but I keep my mouth shut.

Thankfully, Zoey does the same.

As we continue along the cobblestone, I hear whispers, shuffling feet, and gasps as we walk by. The sensation of eyes on me burns my skin, and while it’s impossible to catch what most of them are saying, I do hear bits and pieces.

They don’t look like warriors.

They must be prisoners.

Spies?

Are they the ones they’ve been hunting? From outside theborder?

It goes on and on.

“Keep moving,” Riven says from somewhere close behind me.

The knight guiding me fails to mention the steps ahead, so I stumble as he leads me up.

At the top, we stop.

“Open the gates,” Riven commands, and I hear the heavy creak as the gates swing open in front of us.

The air changes instantly—cooler, crisper—and the whispers of the winter fae fade behind us. The sound of our steps bounces off the walls as we continue forward, through what I assume is a long hallway.

Not only does it feel cold—itsmellscold. Like freshly fallen snow.

Then, suddenly, we stop.

“Tamsin,” Riven commands. “Inform the king that we need an audience in the throne room immediately.”

A deep voice answers—one of the knights we’ve been traveling with. “Yes, Your Highness.”

Footsteps echo as he hurries away.

I hear Zoey shifting slightly, and I reach out, brushing my fingers against her hand to let her know I’m here.

She squeezes my fingers in return, a silent acknowledgment of solidarity.

Neither of us dare say anything. Not when speaking might end in death.

The wait feels endless. Silent. My senses have been stolen away from me, and all I’m left with is cold, overwhelming fear.

Eventually, the door in front of us creaks open.

“Move,” a voice orders, and the knight gripping my arm tugs me forward.

I stumble over the threshold, my legs heavy and unsteady, as murmurs echo through what I assume is the throne room. I hear the rustling of fine clothes, the soft clinking of jewelry, and feet shuffling.

A crowd is gathered.

And while I can’t see the king, I can feel his presence—power radiating through the room like a chill seeping into my bones.

“Father,” Riven’s voice cuts through the stillness. “I bring a summer fae and her companion, who have trespassed onto our lands.”

A heavy silence follows, and I hear the rustling of the king’s cloak as he moves, perhaps shifting in his throne.

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