Page 46 of Golden Star

The king stares down at the man’s body, seemingly satisfied, then looks back up. But he’s not looking at me. He’s looking at the fae woman who screamed earlier, whose quiet sobs are still sounding through the room.

“We are fae of the Winter Court,” the king says. “Succumbing to weak emotions is not tolerated.”

With that, he throws his sword at the woman like a javelin, piercing her heart and killing her on the spot.

She collapses to the floor.

The crowd falls silent.

The air is still, as if the entire room is holding its breath. I certainly am. Zoey is, too.

If I breathe in the scent of any more blood, I think I’m going to lose it. And, as I’m learning today, blood doeshave a scent. Sweet, spicy, and a bit metallic, all at the same time.

Slowly, the king walks forward, reaching the woman’s fallen body and pulling his sword free with a sickening suction sound. He examines the blade and runs his fingers across it, as if pleased by the mixture of his peoples’ blood coating its surface.

“Your turn,” he says, zeroing in on me and Zoey. “Do either of you volunteer to go first?”

As I level my gaze with his, something stirs inside me.

The unmistakable pull of magic.

I will not let this man break me. And I certainly won’t let him hurt my best friend.

I’m focusing on gathering my magic—on feeling it swirling deep inside of me—when Riven’s voice cuts through the silence.

“Father,” he says, as cold and detached as ever.

The king pauses and turns to his son, although his blade remains pointed in our direction. “What is it, Riven?” he asks, impatience dripping from his tone.

“A public execution would be over too quickly,” Riven says, as if such an idea is juvenile and inconvenient. “Their deaths should be more than a passing spectacle. Especially if you want the Summer Court to tremble when they hear what you’ve done.”

The king raises an eyebrow, intrigued, but clearlydispleased, at being interrupted. “And what, exactly, are you suggesting?” he asks.

“A series of trials,” Riven says, the cruelty in his eyes almost matching his father’s. “Three trials, to be exact. Ones that will draw out the agony in a slow unraveling of their will, designed to break them piece by piece. This way, when they die, it won’t be over in a flash of blood and steel. Instead, it will be an annihilation of their entire souls.”

Sapphire

My stomach turnsat Riven’s proposal, an icy knot of fear tightening in my chest.

These are not the words of someone who cares about me.

They’re the words of someone who’s just as sadistic as his crazy father.

The king is silent for a long moment, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction. Then, finally, he sheaths his sword.

“Interesting,” he muses, studying his son as if he’s proud of him. “What types of trials, exactly, do you have in mind?”

“They will be taken to the wild, outer parts of our land,” Riven begins, not missing a beat. “And they’ll start with the Trial of the Frozen Lake.”

My heart skips a beat, and I freeze, my breath catching in my throat.

I told Riven about the lake. I told him how Zoey and I nearly died when we were kids—how the ice cracked beneath her, how the freezing water swallowed her whole.

This isn’t a coincidence.

Riven’s using one of our worst memories against us.

He truly wants to break us.

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