Page 21 of Broken Star

Centuries.

The word hits me like a sledgehammer.

Because firstly, I’m immortal. A fact that’s impossible to truly comprehend.

And now, I’m going to spend that eternity tethered to a cruel prince who views my heart as something to be manipulated, used, and discarded.

“We’ll do everything we can to end the marriage as quickly as it began,” I say to her, although even as the words leave my lips, I know it won’t be that easy. After all, this isn’t the mortal realm. We can’t just sign a few papers and be done with each other.

“Is that so?” Lysandra’s smile sharpens as she gestures to my left hand. “Perhaps you should look more closely at what’s already been done.”

A cold weight sinks low in my stomach.

I don’t want to look. I don’t want to see whatever new nightmare has just been forced on me.

But I do.

And I wish I hadn’t.

Because intertwining silver and blue lines coil around my ring finger, shimmering beneath my skin where a wedding band would be.

Lysandra watches my reaction with interest. “Only the rarest of fae marriages bear this mark,” she explains. “A union dictated by fate. It does not fade, nor can it be severed by force or magic. The two of you were meant to be bound, whether you wished it or not.”

I inhale sharply, fighting the helplessness constricting my chest. Because if fate decided to bind me to a man who’s so careless with my heart, I have no idea what I did to deserve such a cruel, horrific punishment.

“We most definitelydidn’twish it,” I say as Riven lifts his hand, examining the identical mark coiling around his left ring finger.

His expression, of course, is unreadable. A perfect picture of apathy.

“Fascinating,” he finally says with a shrug, so indifferent it makes me want to scream.

He doesn’t even look at me. Not once.

“Now, let’s return to what’s important here,” he says to Lysandra, as if it’s irrelevant to him that we’ve beenmarked and bound together for all eternity.“The duskberry. I assume you brought it?”

I huff in frustration. Because it always comes back to thatstupidduskberry.

“Follow me,” Lysandra says, and she leads us to a small table near the side of the chamber, where she and Riven must have placed the other ingredients before I arrived. Then, swiftly, she pulls a vial out from her sleeve, filled with liquid that’s the same swirling colors as, well,dusk.“I took the liberty of mixing it with water myself.”

“A kind gesture,” Riven tells her. “A gift befitting a newlywed royal couple.”

“My pleasure,” she says with a smile that seems just abittoo sweet. “Now, we should discuss the final ingredient.”

“My blood,” I say automatically, but Lysandra shakes her head no.

“Mine,” she says, surprising me and Riven both. “A queen’s blood will do more than grant clarity—it will fortify the drinker’s will. It will ensure that the Winter King is not only lucid, but unshakable.”

Riven’s expression sharpens, as if sensing a trap. “And what do you want in return?”

Lysandra only smiles. “Nothing.”

Riven and I exchange a glance. We don’t agree on much, but we apparently agree on this—fae always wantsomething.There’s no such thing as a free handout in this realm.

The dryad’s deal was proof enough of that.

Bitterness courses through me at the reminder, and I press my nails into my palms, forcing myself back into the present.

“Butwhy?”I ask Lysandra, and from Riven’s confused expression, he’s wondering the same.

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