It was night, and the castle’s lights were off. The darkness was so deep it seemed to seep everywhere, like spilled ink all around her. Isla looked around for lights, for curtains she could open. She found a candle and lit it.
Her shadow loomed before her, trapped against the wall. Another one joined it. Far bigger than her own.
She whipped around, and there he was. Grim. He was dressed in armor.
Shining sheets of black metal.
He was the thing of nightmares, the monster in the dark. For a moment, she was nervous. But not afraid.
Still, she took a step back, until she and her shadow were one and the same.
He stepped closer. Reached up to pull the helmet from his head. Dropped it to the floor with a loud clatter. Lifted her from the ground by the backs of her thighs, just as her hands fisted in his hair, and she said—
Isla gasped. Blinked at the ivy that snaked across her bedroom’s ceiling, a thin shard of sunlight peeking through her curtains. She was in the Mainland castle . . . not the dark room.
Not with Grim.
Fool.
She blamed her exhaustion for the dreams. Her sleeping patterns had changed, and her body still hadn’t gotten used to it. Yet—
Isla hadn’t seen Grim in a week. Not since the matching ceremony.
A week. Before, he had sought her out whenever he could. Had he gotten whatever he had needed from her and moved on to the next step of his plan?
Her chest felt too tight thinking about it, but she sat up and tried her best to ignore the feeling. She would be a fool to spend another moment on him. Isla should be focused on her own plan. That night, she and Oro would travel to the second location. It would be best to try to get more sleep . . . but the idea of dreaming of Grim again—and worse, liking it—sent her out
of bed, toward her balcony. By the position of the sun, she guessed it was still early morning.
She got dressed, deciding to seek Ella out on one of the bottom floors of the castle. She remembered the recipe of a Wildling sleeping elixir. All it required were a few ingredients.
Yes, she told herself as she swept through the palace, that was what she needed. One cup of the tea, and she would sleep soundly through the day, no Nightshade haunting her dreams. No waking up every few hours clutching her blanket, covered in sweat.
She was just about to round the corner when she heard low voices.
Taking the abandoned old halls was second nature by now. It ensured she rarely saw any attendants and never ran into another ruler. It was how she had visited Celeste a handful of times undetected.
It seemed she wasn’t the only one who used these empty halls for privacy.
Without making a sound, she pressed herself against the wall, straining to listen.
“Your plan is madness.”
Isla froze. The voice echoed even in a whisper, deep and angry.
Oro’s voice.
Another voice responded, too quiet for her to make out the words. But she knew who had spoken them.
Azul.
What were they doing, meeting in such a strange, hidden place?
Isla crept closer to the voices, walking silently, just like Terra had taught her. Tips of her toes, then the sides of her feet, her heels never reaching the floor.
“You will be sentencing thousands to death,” Oro snarled. She didn’t dare take a breath. There was a pause.
“A realm has to die, Oro,” Azul finally responded.
Isla took a step back, shocked—the heel of her shoe made the slightest noise.
The voices quieted.
A moment later, a door slammed shut, blocking out the rest of the conversation.
That night, they remained on the Mainland. Isla and Oro entered the vast woods to one side of the castle, which stretched all the way to the coast. She felt the familiar prick of fear down her neck. This forest was wilder than the one on Sky Isle. Energy coursed through the air. Branches seemed to curl toward her, as if straining for a closer look. Vines across the floor tightened as she passed, as if making to trip her.
The nature here seemed intrigued by her. Sweat pooled down her chest as she watched it. At least it hadn’t hurt her. Yet.
Panic began to poison her thoughts, so she turned her attention to the king instead, hoping the less she looked at the forest, the less it would stare back. His eyes were squinted and slightly more creased at the edges. He walked more stiffly than usual.
“You haven’t been sleeping at all, have you?”
He said nothing to indicate he had heard her speak.
“You could at least try to sleep during the day if we’re going to work at night.”
Oro continued through the forest, ducking to avoid branches that Isla could barely touch if she reached her arm up.
“Unless you have another ally you’re working with during that time?” “I don’t have other allies,” he said curtly.
“Really?” she said. “Not even Azul?”
Oro looked bored. “Eavesdropping is lowly, even for a Wildling.”
So, he knew it had been her listening. Good. “What’s his plan?” she demanded. Before she could stop herself, she added, “You promised to protect me from the other rulers. Should I be worried?”
Oro sighed, irritated. He turned to her. “Azul is harmless. You, of all people, have the least to worry about when it comes to him.”
That didn’t make sense. Azul had talked about ending an entire realm. If he hadn’t been talking about Wildling, which realm was he talking about? “But—”
His sharp look silenced her. “I will not be revealing any more of our private conversation, so you can save your breath and be grateful you heard anything at all.”
The way he spoke to her . . .
Oro wouldn’t tell her any more details about their conversation. But perhaps learning Azul’s story would help her understand his motivations.
“Did something . . . happen to him?” she said a few moments later. The Skyling was always jovial, but she had caught a haunted look on his face a few times. She was willing to bet there was sadness, or perhaps anger, behind his good-natured mask.
Seconds ticked silently by, and Isla thought he was going to ignore her again. But he finally said, “Azul lost someone. Someone he loved.”
Oh. Isla wasn’t expecting that. She supposed all rulers had lost someone close to them the night the curses were spun. This seemed different. “A partner?” she guessed.
He nodded. “His husband.”
Isla felt a knot in her chest. She didn’t know Azul very well, but the thought that he had lost someone so close to him made her hurt in an inexplicable way.
“Was he also Skyling?” she asked. He shook his head.
It made her think of Oro’s brother, and the wedding the curses had destroyed. Two rulers were set to marry for the first time in centuries, a chance to bring the island together. She didn’t want to ask directly about King Egan, but she did say, “Is marrying between realms common on Lightlark?”
“It has become more common” was all he said.
She frowned. “How does that affect power, then? Children . . . are they born with just one realm’s ability?” She looked at him. “They don’t get both, do they?”
He shook his head.
She waited expectantly, wanting a better explanation.
The king sighed. “They are born with one power, Wildling.”
Interesting. Isla opened her mouth, another question ready, when Oro gave her a look that silenced her again.
Fine.
Though he was the one who had ended their conversation, not ten minutes later did he say, “The entrance to Wild Isle is near.” He murmured the words, as if not really meaning to speak them.
Isla stood still. She knew Wildlings had their own isle on Lightlark, of course. She had even searched for it during her snooping. But she hadn’t found the bridge anywhere.
“How do we know the heart isn’t on Wild Isle?” she asked, suddenly desperate to see it. Oro had kept walking, and she raced to catch up. “Surely most of the plants are there.”
The king looked over at her. “You said so yourself. The heart needs a willing, nurturing host to survive.” He shrugged. “All the nature on Wild Isle is dead.”
Dead. The word was a rock to the chest.
She shouldn’t have expected anything different. But it still hurt to hear it spoken.
A moment passed. “What did you think of them?” she asked, even though she practically knew the answer, given the way he had sneered at her during their first dinner together. “Wildlings.”
He frowned, and Isla readied herself for a string of insults that she might just slap him for. “They were my favorite realm, besides Sunling,” he finally said.
She scoffed. “You can’t possibly mean that.”
He peered at her over a shoulder. “I said were, Wildling.” “Why?”
They kept walking. The trees began changing. Thinning. Until they entered a clearing.
“Wildlings were advisers in our court,” he told her. “When I was a child, they taught me to wield a sword, how to pick the right berries. They were loyal. They were good.”
Isla just stared at him. “And now?”
“And now . . .” They walked into another set of woods then, made up entirely of coffiners. Hundreds of them. “Wildlings are all the things they say.”
They spent the entire night peeling back bark, peering into each coffiner tree. Oro did so without having to use a knife, thanks to his Starling abilities. Isla used her hands and a tiny dagger she had sneaked onto the island, disguised as a bracelet. With each cut of her blade, she winced, waiting for the tree to retaliate. But none of them made to hurt her. Isla moved quickly enough that she hoped Oro wouldn’t suggest she unmask her powers for the task. Every hour that ticked by, she worried even more, waiting for him to say the words.
At the end, he finally did. “This would be easier with your abilities,” he said, frowning.
Isla stilled, wondering if she should prepare to run. And what good it would do her.
“But the creatures it would draw out . . . I’m not sure it’s worth the risk.” Isla wondered about these creatures, the ones he had mentioned before. Who were they, and why did they hate Wildlings so much?
Why was even Oro afraid of them?
Isla had always assumed that the rulers were the worst things at the Centennial. The most powerful. Most lethal.
The way the king spoke about these ancient creatures made her think that wasn’t true. Made her wonder how deadly they could be.
And also made her hope she never found out.
