Page 5 of Broken Star

His jaw tightens. “Think about what?—”

“Every. Single. Time,” I cut him off. “You were using me. Tell me, was it fun? Did you enjoy watching me fall for it? Watching me fall foryou?”

He exhales, slow and measured, running his fingers through his annoyingly perfect hair. “Believe what you want,” he says. “There’s no changing what’s been done.”

“I hate you.” The words spill out again, hollow and raw.

“Message received. You’re not getting any points for creativity here.” He crouches again, but this time, his voice drops lower, losing some of that smug amusement from before. “But no matter how much you hate me, I’m not going to let you die.”

He says it like it’s a fact. An obligation. A strategy.

But I know the truth. Because the love he had for me—if it ever existed at all—is an empty well inside his heart. Gone. Forever.

The Riven I thought I knew might as well be dead. All that remains is this shell of the person in his place.

And that’s what hurts worst of all.

“I will never forgive you for what you did,” I say, forcing so much venom into my words that I swear—just for a second—I see something flicker in his eyes.

Shame? Apathy? Remorse?

I can’t tell.

And he speaks before I can ask.

“You’re really willing to let your hatred for me kill you?” he muses, shaking his head in disappointment. “Celeste’s chosen warrior, dying not in some epic battle, but because she was consumed with hatred for the method the man she loved used to keep her alive? You’d reject your star touched destiny out ofspite?”

“You don’t love me,” I snap, although the bite is somewhat ruined by my chattering teeth.

“Semantics.” He shrugs, and my fingers curl into fists, my nails pressing into my palms at how he’s trivializing the fact that he used me and broke me in ways I never dreamed possible. “But whether I love you or not, you’re bound to me until the potion is finished. So, if you want to throw a fit, by all means—freeze yourself to the ground.” He gestures at the dirt beneath me, watching me with so much emptiness that it tears at my soul all over again. “But personally, I think you’ll do a much better job saving Zoey from the Night Court if you’re alive and not dead.”

Zoey’s name slams into me so hard that I nearly completely collapse from the pain.

She needs me.

So, I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing down the humiliation, resentment, and white-hot fury clawing at my ribs.

Because this isn’t about Riven. It’s about Zoey. And I won’t let her suffer because of me.

“Fine,” I give in, and the ice begins to unravel, melting away from my skin and releasing me from its crushing grip.

Riven offers his hand again.

I ignore it, forcing myself to my feet and wiping as much dirt from my knees as possible—as if they’re specks of indignity that can be brushed away in seconds.

His smirk returns, slow and smug as he watches my attempt to gather myself together. “See?” he taunts. “That wasn’t hard.”

Wind gusts through the clearing.

I want to hit him.

Instead, I contain my magic and turn away, forcing my legs to move toward the Summer Palace. Forcing myself to pretend he doesn’t exist.

He unfortunately makes that impossible when he falls into step beside me, his hands in his pockets, looking infuriatingly pleased with himself.

“If you ever want to collapse into my arms again, just say the word,” he tells me, glancing at me as he waits for my reaction.

I glare at him, and my hand goes to the hilt of my dagger, craving the steadiness it provides.

---