A conduit. Like a transfusion. They were bleeding people dry to arm their soldiers.
He stepped closer, his gaze intense. “I believe they are using it to extract magic from a living host and redirect it. That’s why the victims are empty. That’s why the guard was overflowing with power that wasn’t his. They’re using Silverite to move magic from Calysteri to other races, like Umbrakynn.”
“And Varessia is running it?”
“Supervising,” Riven corrected. “Varessia… she executes. And she is very dangerous.”
Her image took over my thoughts. I recalled the way she placed her hand on his lapel, a gesture marked by ease. She brushed the dust from his coat, claiming a right to touch him whenever she pleased. I resented the way he let her. An ugly knot of jealousy tightened in my chest. I tried to suppress the feeling, but I was too tired and too frayed to remain rational.
“She seemed to know you very well,” I said. I tried to keep my voice flat, professional, but it cracked, brittle and exposing.
Riven went still.
“We have a history,” he said.
“A history?” I held his gaze, refusing to let him deflect. “She looked at you like you were a pet she’d misplaced. Like she owned you.”
“She owns nothing.” The words were low, dangerous.
“Are you together?”
The question snapped out before I could stop it. Naked. Exposed.
Riven moved.
He closed the distance between us in two strides. I tried to turn my head, to look away, but his hand came up, capturing my chin. His fingers were cool, firm, forcing me to face him.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
I looked up, and the air left my lungs.
His eyes were changing. The icy blue was darkening, bleeding into a deep, midnight navy. And through the darkness, silver swirls began to ignite—slow, hypnotic spirals of light that throbbed in time with the frantic beat of my own heart.
It was the first time I’d seen it fully. It was terrifying. It was beautiful.
“I have known her for a very long time,” Riven said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against my skin. “But she means nothing to me.”
I tried to move back, but his grip held me. Not hurting. Just anchoring.
“She is not the one my magic connects with,” he whispered. “She doesn’t pull at me. She doesn’t make the silence loud.”
His thumb brushed my jawline. A spark—literal and electric—jumped from his skin to mine.
“Her magic doesn’t control mine, Selene. Not like yours.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “Riven…”
“You see it?” he asked, his gaze searching mine.
“Your eyes,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “They’re changing.”
“This is what I meant,” he breathed. “My magic reacts to you. It answers you.”
He lowered his head, his lips hovering inches from mine. The silver in his eyes flared brighter, a storm contained in a glance.
“And yours,” he murmured, “they’re changing too. They’re gold. And beautiful.”
The world narrowed down to the heat of his hand on my face and the silver fire in his eyes. I stopped thinking. I stopped fighting.
