Page 41 of Broken Star

Finally, after what feels like forever, night falls.

“Our royal ride should be arriving soon,” Riven says, gathering the materials into our pack.

I fold my arms and arch an eyebrow at him. “I’m sure it’ll be a five-star yacht,” I deadpan. “Complete with fluffy robes and hot towels. Since everything in our situation has been so luxurious so far.”

“Hey.” He tilts his head, and I swear he looks offended. “Don’t insult Ghost.”

I frown at the mention of his faithful snow leopard that we left behind in Celeste and her sisters’ care.

“Fine,” I give in. “At least you have good taste in pets.”

“Or rather, they have good taste inme,”he replies in that gratingly charming way of his. “Familiars choose their fae. Not the other way around.”

“Wow—you actually know what it feels like to not have a say in something,” I say dryly.

“I don’t have a say in everything.”

His voice shifts, quiet but sharp. And when I glance at him, his expression has darkened. There’s something unreadable in his gaze—something deeper than his usual arrogance.

But before I can figure it out, he strides toward the door.

“Are you coming, or not?” he asks.

I glare at his back, my fingers tightening at my sides. “Do I have a choice?”

His steps slow slightly, like he wasn’t expecting the question.

“You owe me nothing anymore,” he says, his words throwing me off guard. Not because I don’t want them to be true, but because there’s a hint of something beneath them. A sliver of hesitation.

Like he’s worried I might actually stay back.

“And it’s going to stay that way,” I say, lifting my chin in defiance.

His jaw tightens. Then, without another word, he spins around and leads the way out of the cabin, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, ready for whatever might be lurking outside.

I mirror him, my dagger gripped tightly in my palm. The dagger I had before the trials, not the one the cloaked girl left for me in the trunk, although that one is safely tucked into its sheath on my weapons belt.

Magic crackles around both of us as we step outside.

Luckily, nothing greets us except the salt-laced wind and the night sky, heavy with stars scattered like shattered diamonds across the darkness.

The pier stretches before us, weathered wood gleaming silver in the moonlight.

And there, in the distance, a ship materializes through the mist.

It doesn’t drift into view—itappears,unraveling from the darkness like it was never real to begin with. Its translucent sails billow with the wind, its hull flickering between existence and nothingness. It’s a ghost of a vessel, glowing with an otherworldly shimmer, as if caught between realms.

“Well,” Riven says, his voice carrying that infuriating mix of amusement and authority, “I suppose that’s our ride.”

“Definitely not a five-star yacht,” I mutter, but my magic is already stirring beneath my skin, responding to the energy radiating from the vessel.

“I’d say not.” His gaze sharpens, tracking the ship’s movement. “And unfortunately, it’s not docking at the pier. My guess is that it’s anchored down.”

I scan the pier, but there’s nothing. Not a rowboat, not a single way to reach it.

“Guess we’ll have to swim,” I say, shooting him a glance. “And I’d advise against another strip tease like the one you gave me in that chamber. Unlike then, you won’t be able to get your clothes back afterward.”

His lips curl into a slow, dangerous smirk. “Hey—you’re the one who was thinking about it.” He holds one hand up in mock innocence, the other still holding his sword.

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