Isla had hoped for storms. Not only for another chance at finding the portal, but also because they might have wiped away the tents that had been built outside the castle, for the wedding festivities.
None had arrived. Excitement for a distraction had only grown among the people.
A Nightshade ruler had never taken a wife before.
That morning, there was a knock on her door, and a group of women filed inside. They painted her nails and her features, and brushed her hair, and put jewels on her wrists, all without saying a word to her. She wasn’t sure if they were ordered not to speak to her, or if they simply didn’t want to, but she sat in silence, waiting—hoping—for the stormfinch to sing. It just stared at her.
When they were done, she had red smeared on her lips, just like the first time she had ever seen Grim. She had kohl on her eyes. She had pink on her cheeks. It all accentuated her natural features, but Isla hadn’t worn so much makeup in a long while. Her hair was left down, but the front pieces were pinned back by clips coated in black diamonds.
The dress left on her bed wasn’t the one she had been married in. No, that one was in the wardrobe. She had seen it and blocked it with her other dresses, because every time she saw the fabric, all she could think about
was how Grim had removed it, and there was no room for any of those thoughts, especially after what had happened the night prior.
A mistake.
Agreeing to this wedding was a mistake. It was getting far too easy to forget, and that had always been her problem, hadn’t it?
The dress was black, the requisite color for a Nightshade bride. It was strapless, perfect for putting her necklace on full display. The bodice was tight, and then there was tulle beneath her skirts, making it wider. There
were long black gloves that slipped easily over her bracelets. They reached far past her elbows. They reminded her of Celeste’s gloves. They reminded her of the gloves she had worn at the Centennial, the one she had wrapped around her eyes, when she had struck the crown—
Off Oro’s head.
No. She needed to forget him. She was marrying his enemy. Again.
There was a knock. It was time.
She opened the door and was relieved to see a familiar face. Astria. She threw her arms around her, before she could think better of it. They barely knew each other. Still . . . she was the closest person she had.
Astria let out a shocked laugh. “You’ll cut your dress,” she said, but Isla was careful with the swords. She sighed and stepped back.
“How do I look?” she asked her cousin.
Astria lifted a shoulder. “Painfully beautiful.” Isla raised a brow. “No insult?”
She shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll think of something before the night is over.” She took Isla’s arm in hers and walked her down the corridor.
“He sent you, didn’t he?”
Astria nodded. “He thought you might want . . . family.” “Are there a lot of people there?”
“Anyone who could make the trip, did,” she said. “The ones who can’t see the ceremony will be at the festivities afterward. They’ll go on for more than a day.”
“What are Nightshade weddings usually like?” Astria had been at her original one, but it had been quick and nontraditional. They hadn’t had an audience. Grim had made it special.
“There’s a ceremony,” she said. “Some sort of hand ritual. Then, necklaces are presented, as is custom.” She nodded toward Isla. “You already have yours, of course.”
Isla froze. Was she supposed to have one for Grim?
Astria dragged her along, not missing a beat. “This is where I become
useful,” she said, pulling a simple chain from her pocket. It reminded her of
the one Grim had worn during the curses, with the charm that made him impervious to them. She handed it to Isla. “A family heirloom.”
Isla took it. It was cold and smooth against her fingers. She gripped it like an anchor through her confusing emotions as Astria continued to lead her through the castle. She wasn’t sure where they were going, until they reached the end of the wing.
Then, she remembered.
The Nightshade castle had always made her feel like she was drowning in ink. Every surface was black. Most windows had been built over during the curses, and the floors were gleaming sheets of dark marble. It felt like being underground, trapped, without any sunlight or nature.
But, on its edge sat an orb of life. Grim had built it for her.
It was a greenhouse. The walls were glass, and every shade and shape of flower bloomed before her. A fountain sat at its center, with a statue of a smiling woman holding her tiny dragon, flowers in her hair and between her fingers.
Standing in front of it was Grim.
There were hundreds of people in the room. Watching. Judging. Even more were outside, observing from beyond the glass.
But it might as well just have been them.
He was wearing armor without spikes and his shining black cape. Her own dress had a sheer cape with roses knitted into the fabric, a nod to her Wildling realm.
Grim had chosen this place. He must have known it would feel like home. He must have known it would mean a lot to her that he had included the Wildlings, who had their own section right behind him.
She remembered Grim presenting the greenhouse to her. It was her wedding present. She had always bemoaned the lack of color and life here, so he had built her this. A spot of life in Nightshade, just for her, his Wildling wife.
She stepped forward.
The crowd watched her. Some looked curious. Others regarded her like an abomination.
Grim looked at her the same way he had at their first ceremony. Like she was the beginning and end of his world. Like he would be content to
live in this very moment forever.
He broke into a smile. People whispered. They seemed unnerved by it.
She wondered if his people had ever seen him smile.
He reached out his hand. She took it.
When she turned, she finally noticed the woman behind Grim, the one who would be handling the ceremony.
Eta. The leader of the prophet-followers. She frowned. Why was she here? She hadn’t even considered that she left the mountain.
Had Grim made the climb again to ask? Had they let him in this time? She didn’t seem to be the only one surprised by Eta’s presence.
Members of Grim’s court—and many of the guests—whispered, watching.
“Today, it is my honor to join the ruler of Nightshade with the ruler of Wildling. A powerful union that has not existed in millennia.” She paused and looked around meaningfully at the guests. “A union that was fated. A partnership that was written.”
Silence, then whispers. She guessed many on Nightshade held the prophet’s opinion in high regard, because many in the crowd gasped at this revelation.
Grim’s idea to have the wedding to gain support for their union was working.
She was told to face Grim. To raise her hand. He was told to meet it. His hand was huge, engulfing hers. His fingers gently slid against her own,
callouses scraping. Sparks whispered down her arm at his touch.
“The clasp,” Eta said, and Isla assumed she meant the necklace, the one she had for Grim. She dropped it in the prophet-follower’s grip with her other hand.
Eta tied the necklace between their fingers, joining them, the chain wrapping around and around. She supposed if it wasn’t already around her neck, her own would be part of the ceremony too.
“And now, they are bound, until their last breath,” Eta said. She nodded at her, and Isla undid the necklace’s clasp.
Grim bowed before her. There were a few whispers, murmurs, indignation that the great ruler would bow to her, but she ignored them.
He lowered his head. For a moment, she hesitated.
Once the necklace was clasped, it wouldn’t ever be released, not until his death. She remembered the prophecy.
Would it be at her hand?
Part of her wanted to drop the necklace. Run out of the room.
But she was Grim’s bride. It was a decision she had made, in the past, and now, again, in the present. As much as she hated it, as much as she wished things were different . . . she cared about him. She really did.
Isla clasped the necklace. It was done.
Grim stood, towering over her. His eyes were glistening. He took her hand. Music began to play. People began to form around them, circling them. “Now, we dance. It marks the start of the festivities.”
She nodded. She could do this. She could stand here and pretend like emotions weren’t thrashing within her, battling. Like she wasn’t both radiantly happy and horribly disappointed in herself. Like her heart wasn’t currently breaking and mending at the same time. Like it wasn’t split to begin with.
His other hand went to her waist.
“I didn’t know you were capable of dancing,” she told him, as he moved through the steps with surprising precision. It was easy, he was leading her in a circle, but he did it perfectly.
Grim tilted his head at her. “I’m capable of anything, with the right motivation.”
“And the motivation right now?” “Not stepping on my wife’s toes.”
She swallowed. Looking at him was too painful. No, not painful. Too familiar. Too pleasurable. She wanted to hate this. Her gaze returned to the glass, to all the flowers around them.
“Did I make the right choice?”
She nodded. That, she could admit. “It’s my favorite part of the castle.” She smiled. “I was so touched that I cried when I saw it,” she said, the memory fresh in her mind. She turned to face him again. “You thought I didn’t like it and were prepared to fire all of your gardeners.”
The ghost of a grin played on his lips. “I was prepared to kill all of the gardeners, heart,” he gently corrected, and she wasn’t even sure if he was joking.
Afterward, she had demonstrated to him just how much she had liked it, right here, against the greenhouse glass. She blushed. That time right after their marriage had been a frenzy, a race to who could know each other most intimately.
Grim’s hand flexed against her lower back, as he felt her shift in emotions.
Isla was quick to change the subject. She didn’t remember ever giving him a marriage gift. She hadn’t known it was custom. She frowned. “Did— did I ever give you anything?”
Grim looked at her, and this time he did smile. “Heart,” he said, eyes glistening again. “You gave me everything.”
She looked at him. Really looked at him. For a moment, she allowed the iciness to thaw. She allowed herself to feel the emotions guilt had buried away.
She loved him.
It wasn’t something she could change.
Grim’s leg pressed slightly against hers as he twirled her, and she watched him frown. Slowly, one of his hands dipped, knuckles trailing down her thigh—and the dagger she had strapped to it.
“Is this for me?” he asked, voice faintly amused.
Their faces were just inches apart as she said, “Maybe.”
He held her closer, lips brushing down her temple, and said, “Wait until the end of the song, at least.”
For a moment, she allowed herself to melt into him. To pretend that this wedding was done purely out of love and celebration, and not as an
elaborate distraction. She let herself fall fully into his gaze, their eyes locked like a vow, speaking to each other without words, the way only
people who knew each other could. The way only people who had fought distant dangers and sacrificed their lives for each other could.
Grim made an amused sound as he brushed against her waist, and the hidden pockets there. She had tucked throwing stars inside.
He clicked his tongue, then leaned down to say into her ear, “Only my wife would come to her own wedding armed to the teeth.”
Isla’s hands slowly dropped down his chest, smoothing across the rough material he always wore. “Only my husband would know the places I keep my blades in the first place.”
The corner of his lip twitched upward. “You forget I know you, wife.” He leaned in closer, so his words were pressed right against her ear. “I know you have a blade here.” He touched the curve of her arm. “And here.” He gently stroked the pins in her hair that yes, she had sharpened into weapons, should she need them. “And here.” His fingers ran up her thigh past the other blade—dangerously high, almost to her hip—to where she kept yet another dagger. He brushed against it, leaving blooming heat behind, and
she swallowed. He straightened again.
“That’s all you know about me? Where I keep my weapons?” He shook his head. “No.”
“Tell me.”
His face turned serious. He leaned in, so only she could hear him. “I know you prefer the other wedding dress but didn’t wear it, because you
want it to stay ours. I know you hate that we’re dancing in front of a crowd right now. I know you’re hoping a storm will interrupt the ceremony, so it can all be over.” He leaned in even farther. “I know you have nightmares every night, and it kills me—kills me—that I’m not there to hold you through them, the way I was before. So, instead I send whatever I can. Your favorite foods. Your favorite flowers. I know you’ve killed dozens of people who should have rotted in our prisons long ago, and I know why you do it. To keep the beast within at bay. To funnel your anger and skills into something that maybe looks sort of like good.”
Her breath hiked. How could he know that? He must have felt her jolt of surprise, because he pressed his forehead to hers.
“I know that, because you and me, we are the same shade, Hearteater. I knew it the day you stabbed me through the chest while our lips were still locked. I knew it when you looked at me with such hatred, such fury, but never fear . . . not even knowing who I was, and what I had done.” His lips brushed across her cheek. She wasn’t sure she was breathing. “I knew it when you gave up your life for mine, because for you . . . only for you . . . I would do the same.”
Grim gently pulled away. His eyes burned into hers, as he gently tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. “You are the only person who has ever seen any good past all the blood on my hands, Hearteater.”
And he was the only one who hadn’t made her feel shame for who and what she was.
“You see, I used to have nightmares too, heart.” He did? She must have looked surprised, because he said, “You wouldn’t know. They all stopped when I met you.”
The nightmares stopped.
Something sank through her chest, something she had buried deep inside, bottled for fear of what it would to do to her.
Something like trust.
They were still dancing. For the last few minutes, she had almost forgotten she was in the center of her own wedding, but when Grim spun her around, she spotted a smirking solider. Someone she recognized. She had faced him on the battlefield.
That trust wilted.
These people . . . they had been killing her friends just weeks before.
They had been attacking her. Now they just stood to the side, drinking from black goblets and murmuring.
If anyone on Lightlark saw her, right now, twirling around with the ruler of Nightshade, as his bride, they would be disgusted.
She was a traitor. She was a villain. She was everything they said she was.
Grim was right. They were the same. No one could understand her mistakes the way he could.
She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.
He tenderly moved her head so their gazes met again. “I know you’re still angry. I know you don’t yet forgive me. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. Tell me how to fix this.”
Her eyes burned. For all of their good memories, there were bad ones, things she didn’t know if she could ever forgive. “I—I don’t know.”
Grim nodded. For several moments they danced in silence, looking away from each other. In the absence of words, she thought about the betrayals. The heartbreak. He seemed to sense her anger and sadness, because he said, “Don’t worry. It’ll be over soon.”
She laughed without humor. “And then what? They’ll all watch as you take me to bed?” The way they were watching them now, as if expecting their every movement, looking for lies, it wouldn’t shock her.
His eyes darkened for just a moment at the mention of it. Then, he frowned. “Of course not.”
The music was slowing. The song was nearly over. “Good,” she said, getting close to him. To the crowd, it must have looked like she was leaning close to her husband, to whisper something loving into his ear. “Don’t even think about visiting my chambers tonight.”
Then, the song was over. And he should feel lucky, she thought, that she didn’t reach for her blade.
Drink was served by the barrel. She sipped from a glass and frowned. It would take a while to get used to the thick, strong Nightshade wine. The ones Grim chose for dinner were lighter, more floral.
He did know her. Every single thing she touched or consumed in this castle had been carefully hand-selected by him.
Her people, at least, seemed to be enjoying themselves. She counted all of them. Every single one of her people was invited, but two. Terra and Poppy.
Some small part of her felt guilty not having them there. They, out of anyone, had been with her the most in her life. They had raised her.
She buried the feeling down. Just like Grim, they had betrayed her. They had betrayed her mother. And, more than that, it wasn’t as if this wedding meant anything. The true one had happened many months prior. This was just a show.
Everyone was dancing. The party had moved outside, beyond the greenhouse. Music was played in wild plucks, people swayed in the grass, there was laughter, and smiles, and celebration. Grim had been right. The ceremony would raise spirits. It would foster hope.
He was on the other side of the lawn, speaking to members of his court.
She took a long sip of her drink and wondered if she was supposed to be staying by his side. If everyone would believe it was odd that she wasn’t. Somehow, he seemed to sense her gaze, because his eyes met hers. He raised his drink toward her, in a silent cheer. She gave her best attempt at a smile, still angry from the end of their previous conversation.
It must have looked more like a grimace, because a moment later, a
voice behind her said, “Very convincing. You look more inclined to murder me in my bed than to lie with me in it.”
She turned to the side, where Grim had portaled, and gave him her sweetest smile. “Really? And I was trying so hard to mask my true
feelings.”
He barked a laugh, and the people around looked genuinely concerned.
She wondered if they had ever seen their ruler even chuckle. “You’re scaring the guests,” she murmured against the rim of her glass.
Grim looked faintly amused. He opened his mouth to say something, but, just then, a guard frantically rushed over. He whispered something to Grim. He only nodded, not letting a hint of trouble show on his face.
She knew better. “What is it?” He motioned for her to follow.
She wasn’t the only one who had seen the guard, who had sensed his panic. The celebration seemed to wane. People were watching them, stopping their conversations. Some began to whisper. She didn’t know what the guard had told Grim, but it couldn’t be good. And this was meant to be a distraction.
So, she grabbed Grim by the shoulders, pressed him against the nearest tree, and kissed him.
At first, he looked alarmed, eyes opened wide.
Then, he seemed to forget all his people were watching, or he just didn’t care, because he threaded his fingers through her hair, cradled the back of her neck, and kissed her ravenously.
His tongue swept into her mouth and his taste—she had almost forgotten. Had almost forgotten how one brush of his tongue inside her mouth melted down all of her emotions and forged them into a single gleaming, unrelenting want. She groaned before stifling the sound, but it only made the act more convincing. His thumbs grazed her throat as he held her, calluses scraping, making her shiver, until he reached her necklace.
With a sharp movement, he pulled the diamond and growled into her ear, as if the word had escaped, “Mine.”
In response, she pulled the chain around his neck, forcing his lips back to hers, and said against them, in a voice she hardly recognized, “Mine.”
That seemed to be his undoing. He turned her around in a flash, her
spine hitting the bark, and dragged his lips down her neck, toward her chest. Her breathing hitched, ending in a high-pitched sound only he could hear.
He rumbled his approval against her collarbone.
There were cheers, somewhere. The music became louder.
This was likely enough of a distraction, but the drink made her bold enough to chase exactly what she wanted, so she moved his hands down her body, slowly, exactly where she had imagined them for weeks, and he made a low sound of pure need. One hand gripped her hip bone, thumb making broad strokes across the thin fabric, inching toward the center of her need.
His other swept down her spine, her nerves raw and full of want, before stopping just short of her backside, as if he had finally realized that
everyone was watching. No. She didn’t want him to stop. She rose on her toes, so that his hand slid, and he laughed darkly against her lips.
Her own fingers trailed down his chest, exploring, remembering, pressing against muscle like stone. She didn’t want any fabric between them, she wanted to feel him, feel the heat that was currently pressing against her stomach dragging through every aching part of her. She broke the kiss to whisper, “Carry me,” into his ear, and then she was off her feet. He turned—
And they weren’t at their wedding anymore.
No. They were on a cliffside. He was still carrying her. They were both breathing far too quickly.
“That was convincing,” he said. His voice was casual, but his eyes were like two pools of ink, darkened with want. He looked like he was on the
edge of his sanity. Like one word from her could snap his control completely.
Part of her was relieved he had known it was an act. The other part wondered what would have happened if Grim had portaled them into their room instead.
“What did the guard tell you?” she asked.
At that, his gaze returned to normal. He set her down. “He told me that.”
She turned, and any heat she had felt before withered away. They were at the burial site they had visited just weeks before.
And the graves had been destroyed. Dirt was everywhere. Ash had been scattered.
Anger flashed in Grim’s eyes. It was enormously disrespectful to the dead. She knew that, but it wasn’t what made dread sink through her chest.
This wasn’t a simple job. Hundreds of graves had been desecrated. It had been done quickly, for guards typically monitored these sites. It was
only empty because of their wedding.
There was something else. A single serpent, waiting in the center of one of the dug-up mounds. It rattled its tail, then sank back into the dirt. Follow the snakes.
This was the work of a Wildling.
She reached behind her, down the back of her wedding dress. Her starstick was warm in her palm.
“Where are you going?” Grim asked.
She didn’t answer. She left her husband on the cliff. In her dress, the bottom now muddied, she swept into her family’s stronghold.
Isla found them in the dining room of the castle. Poppy was sniffling,
eyes red and bloodshot like she had been crying. Terra sat next to her, eating dinner in silence.
Poppy jumped up when she saw her. “Litt—Isla,” she said. “You came to see us.” She saw the expression on her face and frowned.
Isla couldn’t find it in her heart to feel badly. No, not when she felt such anger. Such conviction. Her smile was pure hostility as she walked toward them. She hardly recognized her own voice as she said, “Everyone was at my wedding . . . everyone except the two of you.”
Terra looked up at her, bored. “We’re aware. Poppy’s been crying about it for hours.”
“That’s how I know.”
Poppy frowned. “What do you mean?”
“How I know it was you. You killed the nightbane. You destroyed the gravesite. You are the traitors I was warned about, you want me dead!” Her head pulsed. Something stirred painfully in her veins, like her power was rising, fighting against the bracelets’ hold. “My parents weren’t enough for you, were they? You needed to kill me too?”
Poppy looked at Terra. She looked . . . almost afraid. “Isla . . . are you all right?”
Terra got to her feet. “Enough, you sputtering fool,” she said. This was it, wasn’t it? Isla reached for the blade on her thigh.
Poppy gasped at the sight of it.
Terra’s frown only deepened. “We didn’t kill the nightbane. We didn’t destroy any gravesite. And, for the last time, we did not kill your parents.”
Lies. Liars.
“Stop lying to me!” she said, and she felt her power flare in her chest, felt it be stopped by the metal. Her heart was hammering. Her eyes burned.
They had never loved her. They had never cared for her. All they had done was lie to her, and betray her, and use her.
She clutched her necklace, before she could stop herself. Grim was there in half a moment.
“I want them imprisoned.” Poppy cried out.
Grim looked unsure. “Heart, are you—”
“I said I want them imprisoned,” she said. She could feel something in her chest unfurling. Rage and vengeance spreading. “Or does my word mean nothing here? Am I ruler simply by name? Is my throne a prop? Does this marriage mean anything to you?”
He swallowed. “If this is what you wish.” It was what she wished.
She strode out of the castle, away from Poppy’s cries and Terra’s curses.
