Page 72 of Broken Star

Because now that I’ve given in to being his, he’s mine, too.

Another stroke of the base of his wings confirms it.

“You have every single part of me, Aerix Nightborne. Forever,” I say, and as we join together, the remaining tether to my old life—that last part of me clinging to who I was before coming to the Night Court—finally snaps free.

Sapphire

I’ve been steeringus by the stars for hours, following the path between the Lonely Star and the Navigator’s Star as Tiresias instructed.

All the while, Riven’s been... well,Riven.

Cold, distant, and only speaking when necessary.

He’s kept to the other end of the ship, as if space will erase everything that’s happened between us. And honestly? That’s just fine by me. Three enchanted pigs are far better company.

I crouch down, scratching behind the spotted one I’ve named Captain’s ears, which earns me an appreciative snort.

“What would you do if someone bargained away their love for you to get some tree sap?” I ask him. “It’s pretty cold, right?”

The red-eared pig makes a low snuffling noise, which I take as agreement.

“How about marrying you for political gain?” I continue. “That’s normal for royalty, I guess, but still...”

“Are you genuinely seeking relationship advice from enchanted swine?” Riven’s voice cuts through the night as he strides toward me and my three hoofed friends.

“They’re better companions than certain winter fae,” I say, fixing him with a glare that could freeze the Summer Court.

The smallest pig—the black one—wanders over to Riven and nudges his boot, earning a look of mild surprise from the winter prince.

“See? Even they think you’re being ridiculous,” he says, the ghost of a smirk curling across his lips.

“Or maybe they’re checking to see if you have a heart under all that ice,” I snap back, wind picking up around me, making the sails flutter.

Captain makes an almost laughing sound as he settles beside me, his intelligent eyes watching our exchange as if it’s the most entertaining thing he’s ever seen.

“As you can see,” I tell the pig. “He enjoys watching me suffer.”

Riven sighs and unsheathes his dagger, examining the blade with precise, measured movements.

“Princess, perhaps you could direct your theatrical monologue elsewhere?” he asks. “Some of us are trying to prepare for whatever we’ll face in the Cosmic Tides.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say with mock sincerity. “Am I distracting you from brooding dramatically?”

The red-eared pig backs away, but Captain stays put, watching us with those eerily too-human eyes of his.

Riven sheathes his dagger in one fluid motion. “I don’t brood,” he says. “I strategize.”

The black pig squeals suddenly, darting between us like it’s trying to break up a fight.

“Even the pigs think we should focus on our mission,” Riven says, although I’m no longer listening.

I’m too focused on the sky, where the Lonely Star and the Navigator’s Star areshifting,aligning themselves overhead.

Once they settle in place, the sea goes still. Unnaturally, impossibly still. No waves, no current. Just a perfect, endless mirror reflecting the heavens above.

My stomach churns with unease, my magic prickling beneath my skin.

The pigs are quiet now, huddled together near the mast.

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