Joke’s on her, though, since I can’t lie.
“Go to Lost Pier in Montauk,” she continues, speaking so quickly that we don’t have time to ask more questions. “When night falls, you’ll find your spectral ship. Follow the Algol Star to find the island you seek, and once you’re there, tell the sorceress that you seek no path, no descent—only the wisdom of those once forged in flesh. I’ve written it—and other things you’ll need to know—down for you. Be honest about your identities when you speak to her.” She pulls a set of keys and a folded map out of her pocket, holding them out to us. “You’ll find the car on West 74th Street, between the trees and the old brownstones. It’s a red Prius—it’ll be hard to miss. But you need to leave. Now. The storm’s coming, and you have to be gone before it hits.”
“What storm?” I ask, tightening my grip on my dagger.
“Don’t worry—nothing like the one that trapped you in that cave.” She shrugs, as if those days in that cave are commonknowledge instead of a secret world where Riven and I once lived.
Pain rips through me at the memories of when it was just me and him in a dreamlike bubble of time designed purely for us.
No,I tell the wave of heartbreak.Not now. Now when we’re finally getting closer to Zoey.
It obliges, but only for enough time for me to breathe again and register the hope rising inside me. Because if this girl magically knows about private moments I’ve had with Zoey and Riven, and if she knows what we’ll be facing next, maybe she has insight to some other questions of mine, too.
“Can the sorceress reverse the dryad’s deal?” I ask her, my heart racing at the possibility of Riven remembering whatever feelings for me he might have had.
“And Eros’s lead arrow?” Riven adds, which makes me glance at him in surprise.
Why does he care about the arrow?
The answer slams into me the moment I see the hard, determined look in his eyes. Because if the arrow’s spell is reversed, it won’t hurt me every time he touches me. If it doesn’t hurt me when he touches me, I’ll be more likely to give in to his endless attempts at seduction. Which I’m sure would make him—mainly, a certain part of him that he didn’t want me to break last night—very, very happy.
“I don’t know everything.” The girl shrugs, the simple motion yet another blow to my heart.
Riven seems unfazed, instead snatching the keys and the folded map from her hand. “Sapphire,” he says, snapping me back into the present. “Get out of that infuriatingly frustrating head of yours and focus. We’re wasting time.”
I flinch, the wind blowing harder around me.
He doesn’t care about reversing the deal. Why would he, when he doesn’t remember what he lost?
“I’m sorry that I can’t help with more,” the cloaked girl says, although her smile quickly switches from an apologetic one to an amused one. “But I wish you the best of luck, Prince Riven Draevor and Princess Sapphire Hayes Fairmont Solandriel Draevor of the Winter and Summer Courts.”
“That name alone could take over an entire realm,” Riven says, and a laugh escapes me at the sheer absurdity of the titles I’ve racked up in the past two days.
Most noticeably, the one that keeps repeating in my mind like a cruel joke that will haunt me forever.
One that zaps whatever humor existed in the situation away in an instant.
“I’d prefer it withoutyourname tacked onto the end.” I glare at him, shoving my dagger into its sheath.
“It doesn’t matter if you prefer it or not,” he says, slipping the map into his coat. “Because if keeping you alive means having my name eternally tied to yours, then I’ll take your resentment with no regrets.”
I glance up, expecting mockery, but there’s none. Just the barest flicker of something behind his silver eyes—something that disappears the second he turns away.
“Now, are you coming, Princess?” he asks, and just like that, the mockery’s back in full force. “Or would you rather stand here making a new best friend?”
Before I can reply, the cloaked girl steps closer.
“You two can keep flirting with knives and insults later,” she says. “But if you’re still standing here by the time the storm hits, you won’t make it to Montauk—let alone to the Night Court.”
“You’re just as frustrating as he is,” I grumble, although her only reply is an even more frustratingly knowing smile.
Riven exhales, long and slow, then tosses the keys up and catches them again.
When they land in his palm, the metal is covered in ice.
“Let’s go before your frustration makes the storm even worse,” he says, and the cloaked girl has the audacity to nod in agreement.
“Fine.” I huff, and with one last encouraging nod from Mysterious Cloaked Girl, Riven and I set off, with the cold wind at our heels.
