RIVEN
The cheers grow louder,ice magic erupting from thousands of hands as the Winter Court celebrates this newfound alliance.
But slowly, something changes.
One noble from the lower stands—a high-ranking general who has served the court for centuries—kneels, his fist pressed against his heart. His ice magic spirals outward in a show of fealty, not to my father, but tome.
Then, another joins him. Lady Elaria, whose sons were executed on my father’s orders during the worst of his madness, accused of treason for questioning his judgment. Tears freeze on her cheeks as she bows her head in my direction.
One by one, they fall to their knees. Warriors. Nobles. Servants. All of them create a wave of respect that spreads through the stands like frost across a lake.
I keep my expression neutral, but ice crackles at my fingertips, betraying my emotions. Because this display of loyalty isn’t what I sought when I challenged my father. I wanted peace, unity, and strength against the Night Court—not to usurp his authority after I returned it to him.
Now, he watches the display with deep concentration, frost forming and melting on his knuckles as he processes the scene.
I brace for the rage. For the anger that would have consumed him in his madness.
Instead, he turns to me, the crowd momentarily forgotten, and something like wonder crosses his features.
“You are everything I tried to beat out of you,” he says quietly, “and that is why you have won.”
I blink, thrown off-balance by his words.
“Your compassion,” he continues, his voice low enough that only I can hear. “Your ability to feel, to connect, and to inspire loyalty through love rather than fear. Your mother saw it in you from the beginning.” He swallows, grief flashing over his eyes. “She would have been proud of the man you’ve become, and the king you could be.”
The ice beneath my feet cracks slightly, responding to the surge of emotion I refuse to show on my face.
“I’m not a king,” I remind him, since those are the only words I can bring myself to say without breaking right now.
Nor will Ieverbe a king. At least, not if I can help it.
“No.” He glances around at the kneeling crowd. “But they would follow you if you were. Because they loved her, and you have her spirit—her warmth beneath the ice, and her disregard for the rules when she believed she was doing what was right. She always said that true strength comes from having something worth fighting for—worthdyingfor.” His gaze drifts to the royal box, where Sapphire watches. “She was right.”
My eyes lock on Sapphire’s blue ones, and all I want is to be there, with her.
“I’ve had enough of dying for the rest of eternity,” I say, half to my father, and half to her. “Because now, I have someone worthlivingfor.”
He smiles, and together, we make our way across the arena floor.
My hand finds Sapphire’s the moment I’m by her side, her fingers interlacing with mine as naturally as water flowing over ice. Her touch grounds me, steadying the storm of emotions I’ve kept locked beneath the layers of frost for far too long.
“You did it,” she whispers, her magic swirling with mine where our hands meet.
“Wedid it,” I correct her, drawing strength from her presence. “None of this would have been possible without you. Not even close.”
Her smile warms me from within, melting the last of the tension I’ve carried since challenging my father. Because here, with her hand in mine, I can finally breathe again.
My father watches us, a flicker of something—recognition, or memory—crossing his face. But whatever he sees, he keeps to himself, turning back to address the still-kneeling court instead.
“Rise,” he commands, and the crowd obeys, although their eyes remain fixed on me and Sapphire—the Winter Prince and his Summer Princess, standing united before them.
Without thinking—without calculating the consequences of my behavior in the public eye—I pull Sapphire close, my lips capturing hers in a kiss that says everything I don’t have words for. All the fear I felt facing my father, all the hope her love has given me, and all the wonder that she chose me despite everything.
When we break apart, her eyes are wide, her cheeks flushed with warmth that defies the arena’s chill.
“You know,” she says slowly, giving me a mischievous smile that makes me want to dofarmore than just kiss her. “For someone who spent decades perfecting his icy composure, you have a surprising talent for causing a scene.”
“Only with you,” I tell her, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Only ever with you.”
