Page 50 of Broken Star

But I don’t know what drinking from him would do to me. I don’t know how much control I’d have. And after that lead arrow, I don’t want to risk finding out.

“You’re scared,” he observes, dissecting me with a single look, peeling back my defenses like he already knows what’s lurking beneath them.

I scoff and cross my arms tighter over my chest, as if that can shield me from whatever truth he thinks he’s uncovered. “Of you?” I finally ask, forcing as much casualness into my tone as I can muster. “Please.”

Frost crawls along his fingers, spreading like veins of ice. “Not of me,” he says, like it’s obvious. “Of what will happen when you give in.”

The ship tilts beneath me, waves crashing harder against its sides.

“I’m not going to give in,” I say, although my breath’s coming faster now, my eyes drifting to that place where my blade sliced his forearm back in the Summer Court.

“Then why do you look at me like you’re already imagining it? Like you’re afraid of what will happen if you have a taste?” he asks, and I half expect him to take out his dagger, slice his forearm, and tempt me again.

Thankfully, he doesn’t.

“Aren’tyouthe one who should be afraid ofme?”I push back, relieved that despite how cruel he is, he’s notquitecruel enough to cross the line and thrust his blood into my face. “I’m the one who can drain you dry. I’m the one who’s restraining myself, even though my life would be easier without you in it.”

“Is that what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night?” He circles me, his voice edged with ice. “That you’re restraining yourself? That you have control? That despite everything, you don’t enjoy me as much as I enjoy you?”

I don’t move. Don’t let him see how deep his words burrow under my skin, setting my heart on fire.

But he does see. He always sees.

“Because if you’re truly in control,” he continues, taking a slow step toward me, the light from the lanterns making his eyes glint like frozen steel, “then you wouldn’t be shaking right now.”

A sharp gust of wind slams through the room, rattling the lanterns and making the wooden walls groan, as if the ship itself is straining under the weight of this moment.

He watches, fascinated, his lips parting slightly, like he’s daring me to lose control.

“What are you so afraid of?” he pushes further, his voice sliding over me like frost. “That you’ll like it? That you’ll lose control? That you’ll kill me?”

His words settle over me like a whisper of fate, and the cabin feels smaller. Tighter.

“Maybe I’m afraid of losing more of myself than you’ve already taken,” I admit, and then I summon my magic again in one violent burst, sending a rush of wind through the cabin, shoving him back just enough to slip past him.

My breaths are ragged as I throw open the cabin door, stepping onto the deck and into the cool night air. The ghostly mist coils around me, and I brace my hands on the railing, forcing myself to focus on the wind, the water—onanythingbut the way Riven’s words are still curling around my mind, sinking into my bones.

Because he’s right. Iamscared.

Not of him.

Not of the hunger.

But of the inescapable feeling that if I ever tasted him, I’d never be able to stop—and that a life without him in it would make me even more broken than I already am.

Zoey

“Zoey.”Aethelthryth’s sharp knock pierces my dreams. “Come to the courtyard. Now.”

I jump out of bed, walk to the window, and peel back the curtains. The sun is just starting to set. I’m not supposed to be up for another hour or so, when twilight’s settled in.

When I crack the door open and see Aethelthryth, her midnight eyes are uncharacteristically troubled.

It’s happening again.

I had an inkling it would, given what happened yesterday. So, I throw on the first dress I find, not bothering to fix my hair, and follow Aethelthryth through the warm halls of the human wing.

A handful of humans are gathered around the fountain, their handlers standing behind them.

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