“Riven was the name Master Barthol assigned to me when I began my training on the monster realm. I was eight, and no one had ever called me anything before. They took nothing from me, because there was never anything to take.”
I don’t want to interrupt him, but fuck, everything he’s saying is wrong—and the face staring back at me proves it. Dammit, I’ve got to risk startling him. Shooting up from the couch, I run to the floor-length mirror, yank it off the wall, and sprint back to him, nearly tripping over my own godsdamn feet in my hurry.
I thrust the mirror in front of his face, gripping the edges so hard I’m scared they’ll crack. I can’t ease off, though, my hands are shaking too badly, and I won’t risk dropping the mirror when Riven deserves to see who the fuck he is.
“Look,” I shout. “Look at yourself, right now, like I’m looking at you. They tried to take this from you, but they couldn’t, Riven. Even if you lose it again and fade beneath the amber, you’ll know it’s there, like I know it’s there. Like Celine knows it’s there.You’rethere. You’ve always been there, can’t you see?”
I peek around the edge of the mirror, scared I was too late. I leaped up like a maniac—he was probably so alarmed that the mask came back online.
Except, he’s still there, staring in shock at his own reflection.
Riven lifts his hands and touches his face. Fingers shaking, he traces his chin. It’s angular—the kind of chin that gets noticed.His skin is a few shades darker than mine, and his brown eyes are framed by thick, sooty lashes. There’s a bump in the middle of his nose and a smattering of freckles over the bridge that extends halfway across his cheeks.
I’m not sure why exactly, but this face suits him.
He’s Riven.
“I don’t hate you,” I whisper. “I hate what the shifter council did to us—your people and mine. I’m sorry for calling you a shuck. You’re not empty. And face or not, you never were.” My fingers flex around the mirror, giving me something to focus on besides my awkward apology. “Fuckingfuck.” I groan. “You’re one of us, okay? To me, at least.”
Riven’s gaze leaves the mirror and moves to my face. “Do you mean that?” His voice is the same, deep and smooth, and I’m relieved it hasn’t changed.
I nod, accidentally banging my forehead on the mirror in my hurry to be done with this.
Riven’s lips twitch.
I shake my head, being careful to avoid the reflective monstrosity this time. “Is the air clear enough now?” I ask. “Because this mirror is fucking heavy.” It’s not. I could hold it all day, and we both know that, but?—
Celine gasps, and we turn in sync to look at her. Dammit, I was so caught up in this conversation, I didn’t even hear the bathroom door open. “I’m sorry about the mirror, baby, I’ll fix it. I needed to show...” I trail off when I realize she’s not worried about the mirror.
Wrapped in a thick, fuzzy towel, Celine rushes over to us, wet hair plastered to her neck. She grips Riven’s chin and turns his face to see all the angles. “How long have you held it?”
He glances at me, a question in his eyes.
I shrug. “Five minutes or so.”
As if I cursed him by bringing it up,his face warps. Familiar static lines roll over his features until they return to the same indistinct amber shapes.
Riven doesn’t break down or do anything dramatic, but his shoulders dip. The muted disappointment is worse than if he threw a fit. It’s like he’s so used to rock bottom that he can’t spare the energy to hope for anything better.
A pit settles in my stomach.What they did to him is fucked up.
I prop the mirror against the wall, wincing at the loud thud. By the time I turn around, Celine’s trying to comfort him. Hands cupping his cheeks, she kisses him deeply. His eyes, still open, drift to me, as if he expects me to snatch her away from him.
Three weeks ago, maybe I would have, but a lot can change in a short amount of time, and I wasn’t lying when I said I considered him to be one of us.
I guess this is my chance to prove it.
Determined, I stride over to them, ignoring Riven’s flinch as I press against Celine’s back and drag my lips over the curve of her neck. “Riven needs cheering up, baby.” I work my thumbs under her towel and wait for her to make the next move.
She wraps her arms around his neck and tucks her head into the crease between my shoulder and my chin. “Then let’s cheer him up,” she purrs.
My blood heats. I kiss her shoulder and tug on the towel.
It drops to the floor, and Riven’s eyes roll over her body hungrily.
“I’m still sweaty,” he mutters.
“Don’t worry.” Celine leans into him, nipping at his lips. “You’re going to get sweatier.”
