Page 36 of Burning Star

Riven and I stand there for a long moment, holding hands, trembling with exhaustion and adrenaline. His breathing is ragged, matching mine, and when our eyes meet, I see everything I’m feeling reflected in his gaze.

“We did it,” he finally says, his voice rough with emotion. “We broke through.”

“We told the cosmos to go to hell,” I reply, which earns me a breathless laugh.

“That, too.” His thumb traces the new scar burned into my palm. “Are you okay?”

I take stock of myself—my body humming with star power, my magic stronger than ever, and my soul linked to his.

“I’m more than okay,” I tell him. “I’m alive. Really, trulyalive.”

“We both are.” His smile is soft at the edges, vulnerable in a way only I get to see.

I step closer, pressing my free hand against his chest, feeling his heart beating strong and steady beneath my fingers.

“We’ve already died for each other,” I say, my voice fierce and trembling with everything I can’t put into words.

“And now, we live,” he finishes, sealing the promise with a kiss that tastes of starlight, frost, pine, and a love capable of breaking the cosmos.

ZOEY

I enterthe shared sitting area of my suite and find Victoria and Sophia sitting huddled on the couch, their heads bent close together.

They straighten, their eyes darting to me, as if I’ve interrupted something sacred.

“Morning,” I say, keeping my voice even despite the chill that settles in the room.

Victoria’s gaze cuts through me, sharp as glass. “Did he drain you completely, or just your dignity?” she says, getting straight to it.

Because as the two of them seemingly figured out, I slept in Aerix’s quarters last night. Well, lastmorning,since the night fae keep a nocturnal schedule.

Sophia doesn’t speak. She doesn’t even look up.

Her silence hurts even more than Victoria’s anger.

“Victoria,” I begin, but the older girl cuts me off with a harsh laugh.

“You don’t get to say my name like we’re friends.” Her hands tremble at her sides. “You know what you did. One night with him, and suddenly you think you’re special? You think you’re above the rest of us?”

“I never said?—”

“You didn’t have to,” she interrupts. “Everyone knows. They realized when you didn’t return after dinner. We’re all perfectly aware that you spent the night in his quarters. Congratulations, Zoey. You’re the prince’s new favorite toy.”

“It’s not like that,” I say, but the excuse sounds hollow, even to my own ears.

Victoria steps closer, her face contorted with pain. “Not like that?” she hisses. “Tell me, what’s it like, then? Did you fall into his bed by accident? Get distracted painting while he seduced you with poetry and wine?” Her eyes narrow. “Or maybe you were too busy whittling your next wooden masterpiece to notice he’s using you, just like the rest of us?”

Sophia finally speaks. “Vicky, maybe we should?—”

“No. She needs to hear this,” Victoria cuts her off, returning her focus to me. “You waltz in here like you own the place—making your wood carvings, painting your pictures, and playing your little games. But you’re just like the rest of us. A plaything. A distraction. A warm body for him to feed from. And you’d do best to not forget it.”

She turns and storms out, the door slamming behind her so hard it rattles the walls, making one of the paintings above the fireplace tilt.

Sophia stands and shifts on her feet. “She’s just upset,” she offers weakly, not saying—or unable to come up with—anything more.

“And you?” I ask, already knowing the answer from her averted gaze.

“I…” She picks at the fraying hem of her sleeve. “You have to see how this looks. Especially after Jake and Matt…”

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