Page 32 of Burning Star

“I was hoping you’d say that,” I tell him, since his designs fascinate me more than I think he realizes. “You create beauty with your ice, and I want to carry that beauty with me—always.”

He leans in, his voice a whisper against my skin. “It takes something beautiful to create something beautiful,” he says, and as I realize what he means by it, I narrow my eyes at him.

“You’re complimenting yourself again.”

“Not entirely,” he says with a smile that makes it impossible to not love him. “Because it takes something beautiful to inspire something beautiful, too.”

The second part erases any hint of irritation I had at the first.

“Then give me something as deadly, as intricate, and as breathtakingly impossible as you are,” I say. “Because I want to wear your love like a memory that never fades.”

Air rushes around us, and I’m not sure if it’s from me, from him, or from both of us.

“Hold still,” he warns me. “Because you’re about to have a piece of me burned into you forever.”

“I’m ready,” I tell him, and he takes the Disc from my hand, turning it once, then again, testing its balance.

The sapphire’s glow brightens at his touch.

“A star and an ice crystal intertwined,” he says thoughtfully, “where both elements become indistinguishable from one another. Just like us.”

My heart thrums against my ribs. “It’s perfect.”

“It’s going to hurt,” he warns.

“Everything about us has hurt,” I reply, keeping my palm steady. “The pain has always been worth it.”

“Spoken like a true Winter Princess,” he says, placing one of the Star Disc’s points against my palm, his touch gentle as he steadies my hand.

Then—pain. It cuts clean and hot, like fire laced in starlight.

I inhale sharply, somehow not flinching as he drags the point across my skin, carving with the precision of someone who’s mastered control in everything he does.

“Breathe,” he murmurs, his voice smooth and steady as his hand guides the Disc. “You’re doing great.”

He starts with the star—five sharp lines radiating outward, crisp and symmetrical. Then he carves an ice crystal over and through it, interlacing the points with delicate edges that mimic the frost patterns he creates when he’s trying to contain his emotions.

My water magic responds to my pain, droplets hovering in the air around us like suspended tears. But I don’t let them fall. Instead, I channel the magic into the blood on my palm, making it shimmer with a subtle blue glow.

“Beautiful,” Riven whispers, almost to himself, frost blooming around the cut as he continues with his design.

It’sus.

Water and frost. Summer and winter.

And it’s perfect.

When he finishes, he lifts my palm to his lips and kisses the edge of the wound, his eyes never leaving mine.

The intimacy of the gesture steals my breath away.

Then, wordlessly, he extends the Star Disc to me, his left hand outstretched, palm up.

“Your turn, Princess,” he says, and my fingers tremble as I take the Disc, now stained with my blood.

“Don’t worry,” he adds. “I won’t flinch.”

“I know you won’t,” I say, positioning the Disc above his left palm. “That’s what worries me. You never flinch, even when you should.”

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