“Hearteater.”

The word was a bell, somewhere far away. A rumble of thunder. The quick shut of a door.

“Come back to me.”

Come back. Had she ever really left?

A shaking sigh. Words drenched in pain. Agony. Whittled down into a whisper. “What did you do to me?” he said, voice pleading. She felt a finger run down the side of her face. “What did you do to leave me completely at your mercy?” Isla opened her eyes.

She was in her room. Grim was clutching her remaining bottles of Wildling healing elixir in one arm.

Isla was in Grim’s arms before she could take another breath. He pulled her to his chest, cradling her head, hand behind her knees. His eyes searched hers desperately.

She pressed her forehead against his mouth. He was cold as stone, and it dulled the ache. She was too warm . . . coated in flames, in energy, in sparks.

The arrow.

A hand went to her chest. Nothing. The sharp tip of it was gone. She looked down and saw her shirt, shredded. Ripped open to address the wound. She pulled her underclothes aside and saw it. An angry mark, right over her heart. Where the arrow had pierced.

She should be dead. “How . . . how . . .”

“I don’t know.” He held her again, careful as cradling glass.

But she did. The heart had saved her . . . its energy had been enough to keep her alive for the moments it had taken to heal her.

She remembered Oro’s words. Only those in Wildling, Nightshade, or Sunling could claim the heart. Use it.

Isla didn’t have powers . . . had it still recognized her? Had she truly been able to wield it?

She swallowed. If she had used the heart, then part of Oro’s interpretation of the prophecy had been completed.

Only when the original offense has been committed again.

Isla slipped out of Grim’s grip and winced at the pain that pulsed through her chest. The sun still shined, but it was fading. She had been recovering all day . . . too much time had been wasted.

“Thank you,” she told Grim, hand going to the invisible chain around her neck. To the diamond large as a small potato. She wrapped her arms around him, hands interlocked behind his neck.

“There’s something else,” Grim said. He was so serious that Isla’s stomach sank. What had happened while she was healing? “There is a Moonling shop in the agora, a hidden one long abandoned. I went there, to try to find more remedy, while you were sleeping. And I found something, hundreds of years old. A rare Wildling elixir that does what Moonling healing cannot.”

Isla drew in too much air. She blinked at him, a question in her eyes.

He nodded solemnly. Grim looked at the floor, not at her. “Celeste is awake.”

“I need to go,” she said quickly, both delighted and panicked. What if Azul came to finish the job now that Celeste wasn’t hidden any longer? If Grim had found the Skyling ruler, he would have already told her.

Grim looked at the mark on her chest, then up at her. “You need to rest,” he said.

She shook her head. No.

Isla turned to leave but stopped when she heard, “Hearteater.” His voice broke on the word. She faced him. “I thought you were dead.”

I did too, she thought. But she didn’t say that. Instead, she said, “I’m alive. Because of you.” She closed the space between them. Moved her head so his nose grazed her neck. Her mouth was at his ear. “And I want to do a thousand things with you,” she said, shuddering as her chest burned, the wound still tender. “But first . . . there’s something I must do.”

Grim nodded.

And she pushed past him, out of her room. She ran to her friend’s chambers as fast as she could.

Before she could knock, the door flew open. Celeste stood there, eyes wide.

She threw her arms around her friend, even though it still hurt to move. Pain barreled through all her bones, her organs tightened, and she choked the words, “I thought you—Celeste, you—”

“I know,” Celeste said quietly. “It was Azul.”

Isla pulled back to meet her eyes. “I know. I got your message.” She held her hand up, revealing the diamond on her finger once more. “Why?” “I have no idea. He must be planning something.”

Isla wanted to sit and speak with her friend, allow herself to feel relief for more than just a few seconds.

But she had to move again.

“I did it,” Isla said, voice breaking. “It’s a long, terrible story, but . . . I found the heart. And wielded it.”

“What?” Celeste said, like she might not have heard her correctly.

Isla smiled. “I’ll tell you everything later, but for now . . . stay hidden and wait to hear from me.” She gave her friend another quick embrace. “All of this will be over soon.”

She turned to leave, then stopped. There was something she needed to say.

“I’m sorry, Celeste. For everything. I’ve been a terrible friend. Terrible partner. But I’m going to make everything better. I promise.”

With another final squeeze of her hand, Isla raced down the hall. Celeste frantically called after her, but she didn’t stop. It was dusk. The sun was setting.

She raced back to her room. Grim was gone. A moment later, her balcony doors burst open.

Oro flew through, landing in the center of her rug, his skin marred and healing right in front of her. He had flown through the waning light, she realized, when the sun still barely shined. Enough to burn him, but not kill him.

She froze, staring at him.

“You’re alive,” he said sharply, like an accusation, his chest still heaving. His eyes were wide.

She nodded. There was a pause.

“Good.” He straightened. Swallowed. His fingers unfurled, and the heart sat in his palm, glowing like Oro had reached a hand into the sun and

taken a fistful of its shine. It looked less like a yolk now and more like an orb. Golden. Fiery.

“We did it,” she said, breathless, hand going to her aching heart. She smiled, even though her chest felt like it had been halved.

He handed the heart to her. It gleamed in her palm, winking.

“Bathe, Isla,” he said. “Get dressed.” Only at that moment did she register the dried blood in her hair, the dirt on her clothes. “Then meet me in the library.”

Before she could say a word, he flew back through her balcony, into the night.

She gripped the heart in her hand, wondering how Oro could possibly trust her with it. The king of Lightlark, untrusting of everyone, had handed over the island’s most prized possession. The key to ending the curses. The key to her future. The key to the island.

Even she thought he was foolish for doing so.

Isla didn’t part with it, bringing it into the bath with her as she scrubbed herself down quickly, not lingering too long on the mark on her chest, which had further healed but still looked pink against her skin. A permanent bruise.

She put on a dress. Red, like the blood she had spilled.

Ten days.

They had found the heart with ten days to spare. But there was still a rush. The island could crumble away at any minute. Terra could die that very day. Isla had watched her through the puddle of stars before going to find the heart with Oro. The only part of Terra that hadn’t succumbed to the forest floor was the right half of her face, her eye still opened wide. The other was closed.

Isla clutched the heart tightly on her walk to the library, and it pulsed in her hand. Glimmering. Speaking to her in its strange language, a siren call that promised power.

Power it had already started to give her, if her miraculous healing was any indication.

Oro was sitting in the library, lost in thought. Looking at a text, but not reading it.

As soon as she entered, he stood. Nodded. Sat again and motioned for her to do the same.

He was oddly serious. The king of Lightlark sat before her, not her companion on many adventures. Not the person she had come to trust with her life.

Isla sat down and placed the heart between them, carefully. “I think I used it,” she said firmly. “I think it saved me.”

Oro only nodded.

She repeated the prophecy from memory.

“Only joined can the curses be undone Only after one of six has won,

When the original offense Has been committed again

And a ruling line has come to an end Only then can history amend”

Isla swallowed. “We were joined . . .” she said. “Throughout the Centennial. And all of the rulers were joined on the island. That’s the first part. Then, I committed the original offense, by using the heart.”

Oro leaned back, his crown’s sharp tips pointing toward the back corner of the library. He must have retrieved it, along with the heart, once the sun had gone down.

He hadn’t returned her own crown. Her head felt empty without it . . . and also weightless. She found herself not rushing to wear it again.

“You will receive the power that was promised. You will officially be the one who wins,” he said, looking unbothered by the fact. “When you complete the final part of the prophecy.”

Isla nodded, chin high.

“The last step, then, is the matter of which realm will perish.” Oro leaned back in his chair. “As promised . . . the choice of which realm to save is yours.”

“Starling,” she said immediately. Her shoulders settled a bit. She was safe . . . and so was her best friend. Oro’s brow furrowed, surprised. Why? she wondered.

Then her blood went cold.

“Who dies?” she asked quickly, not bothering to hide her fear. Not anymore.

Oro’s eyes softened. But the rest of his expression remained firm. The face of a king. “Nightshade, Isla,” he said gently.

Something had punctured her lungs—another arrow, maybe. Her breathing became panting. She was drowning from the inside out.

“But you said he couldn’t die. You said he’s the only thing standing between us and a greater danger.” From that point on, she had assumed Grim was safe.

Oro nodded. “That was true . . .” he said. “Until we found the heart.” The realization was a boulder to the chest. The heart held unparalleled

Nightshade power. With it, the king didn’t need Grim anymore. He could

kill him and still protect the island against the mysterious danger.

“What about Cleo?” she demanded, voice angry. Fingers curling. “I don’t know how, but she spun the curses. She must have teamed up with someone else who could wield the heart. She’s the reason for all of this.” Her voice shook. Her eyes prickled with tears that did not fall. “She tried to kill me. Twice.”

Oro’s expression did not change. “That might be. And if she did spin the curses, she will be tried.”

“If she did?” Isla yelled, standing.

Oro stood too, towering over her. “There are thousands of Moon-lings on this island. I will not sentence them all to death because of the actions of their ruler.”

Her arms shook. But he was perfectly fine allowing the entire Nightshade realm to die. Her hands clenched and unclenched. Her head throbbed. “What about Azul?” He had nearly killed Celeste. “He obviously has some sort of plan to overtake power on Lightlark. He can’t be trusted.”

Oro shook his head. “I told you. At the second Centennial, Azul’s husband died. Each Centennial since, he does not work to break the curses, or form alliances, or overtake anything. He only tries to speak to his beloved one last time.”

“What about his plan?” Isla demanded. “I heard you both.”

Your plan is madness, Oro had said. You will be sentencing thousands to death.

A realm has to die, Oro, Azul had responded.

“His plan?” Oro said, taking a step toward her. “His plan was to

sacrifice himself. Give himself up as the ruler to die to end the curses. He

knew the island’s days were numbered after my demonstration. He was willing to sacrifice himself, his people, if it meant saving everyone else. They have a democratic rule. His realm agreed with him. They voted for it.”

“That’s not true. He tried to kill Celeste,” she growled.

“I don’t know why he would do that. I’m sure there’s a reason—”

A reason. The king seemed to have endless excuses and empathy, but only when it suited him.

Azul and Cleo both had their own agendas, she knew it. But Isla realized then that they must have had help. Cleo had killed Juniper after somehow finding out that Isla planned on meeting him. Celeste had been found away from the Carmel celebration in the gardens, as if she had been led there . . .

Only one other person knew about Juniper’s letter to Isla and Celeste. One person knew about Celeste’s poisoning before anyone else.

One person had complete access to the castle and could move freely, practically unnoticed.

Ella.

Isla’s eyes burned; her throat was dry. She didn’t know anything anymore. Was she wrong? Or right?

She had worked tirelessly to find the heart.

Little did she know, the entire time, she had only been guaranteeing Grim’s death. If Isla refused to kill him, Oro would. She knew that.

You could choose him, a voice in her head whispered . . . choose his realm to save. And see if Oro might choose Moonling or Skyling to die over Starling.

No. Isla knew Oro would choose Starling then. It was the weakest of Lightlark’s realms, with the smallest population, because of their curse. Celeste was the youngest ruler, besides Isla.

The choice was clear. Either Celeste, or Grim. Tears streamed down her face. Angry, hot tears. “Not him,” she demanded. “Please.”

Why did she think he would choose Cleo? Just because the Moonling ruler had tried to assassinate her? Because Oro had saved her?

She was a fool to think he cared, to somehow allow herself to believe that Oro was anything but the king of Lightlark. A cruel ruler who would do

wicked things to serve his people.

And Nightshade was their enemy.

Oro’s face was expressionless. He was the king at the dinner table sneering at her wet hair, putting a heart on her plate and demanding she eat it.

“I saw his flair, Isla. He can travel between Lightlark and Nightshade in a moment. Do you know how dangerous that is? When the curses are broken and Nightshade decides to attack again while we are still vulnerable, still healing, he can transport his entire army here in the blink of an eye. Without warning.”

“But you didn’t even know about his flair until now! Which means he could have done that exact thing in the war. And he didn’t, did he?”

Oro shook his head, furious. “You don’t know what he did,” he said, baring his teeth. “And that was a long time ago. Before he became ruler and inherited immense power.”

Isla’s hands trembled at her sides. She looked up at him, eyes gleaming.

Pleading. “Please. Reconsider.” He shook his head.

She bared her teeth. “You can’t make this decision on your own. You said so yourself. The choice is important. It’s harder than the killing itself.”

Oro’s expression was sad—pitying, even. “I’m not making the decision alone, Isla,” he said.

He must have Cleo’s and Azul’s support, then. A majority of the rulers. He had gotten their approval of his choice behind her back.

Her blade was in her hand in a moment. She lunged at him before he could make a move, pressed her dagger against his throat.

He let her. He did not strike her down with his fire, the way she knew he could with half a thought, even weakened.

Oro stared at her with his honeycomb eyes. Hollow. Emotionless. “Do it,” he dared. His connection to all the people on the island prevented her from killing him. But she could make him bleed, make him hurt.

Isla’s hand shook, the dagger trembling against his throat. She stared at him for a long while.

Then she took her blade and left.