Page 6 of Broken Star

Because one day, the deal I made with him to help him make the potion will be over.

And when that day comes, Prince Riven Draevor will know exactly what it means to be broken—just like how he broke me.

Sapphire

Eventually,the Summer Palace rises before us.

Its golden domes gleam in the starlight, its terraces bursting with vibrant flowers that glow like the sun. The entire structure seems to pulse with warmth—a welcome contrast to the frozen grandeur of the Winter Court.

But I don’t care.

I barely see any of it.

Becausehe’sinsisting on walking next to me. Riven. His presence alone is suffocating—a constant, inescapable weight pressing down on my chest—and to make it even worse, he won’t stop talking.

“—when we enter, let me speak first,” he continues, smooth and measured. “Diplomatic law requires them to acknowledge a formal request from the Winter Court to speak with the Summer Queen, but they don’t have to be friendly about it. The less you antagonize them, the better.”

I cut him off with a glare. “By all means, Your Highness,” I say. “Lead the way. Wouldn’t want to risk me speaking out of turn and ruining your flawless plan.”

He glances over at me, the moonlight casting sharp angles across his arrogant, unreadable, beautifully infuriating face. “We can do this the easy way,” he says as we near the gates, “or we can do this your way. Which, given the aftermath of Eros’s arrow, seems likely to result in emotional breakdowns and exhausting tantrums.”

The air presses in around us, like a storm ready to break, and I reach for my dagger.

Before I can unsheathe it, Riven’s fingers close around my wrist.

Agony explodes in my chest—a brutal, crushing force that steals the breath from my lungs. The pain isn’t physical, but it might as well be.

Because in that moment, I’m everywhere at once. I’m back in the Winter Court, trembling beneath Riven’s cold, assessing stare. I’m in his arms, gasping his name as he whispers promises that were never meant to last. I’m running through the forest with Zoey, waiting for Riven to help us, believing for one impossible second that he might actually care.

The memories keep coming, and coming, until they’re drowning me completely.

Finally—eventually—Riven’s grip slackens.

His silver eyes flick to mine, and for the first time since this nightmare started, his amusement dims. Just slightly. Enough that I see the questions forming behind them.

Tears well behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.

“See?” His voice is infuriatingly soft—a cruel contrast to the pain shattering my heart. “Case in point.”

And, just like that, he releases me.

The moment his touch is gone, the pain disappears. But the ache it leaves behind stays, lingering in my bones, in my pulse, and in the hollow space inside my chest where my heart used to be.

His eyes land on my dagger.

“Put that away,” he says. “Brandishing weapons while walking into a foreign court is a good way to get oneself killed.”

I glare at him, hating that he’s already found something new to exploit and twist against me.

But as much as I hate it—and him—his point is valid. So, with shaking fingers, I return the dagger to its sheath.

“Good.” He studies me closely, as if he’s searching for something he can’t quite place. “Are you okay?”

“Do you care?” I shoot back, and he tilts his head, as if considering it.

Then, just like that, his icy shield goes back up, any trace of emotion gone.

“I take that as a yes,” he says coldly, not speaking another word as we continue toward the palace.

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