Nightbane (Lightlark, #2)(10)

That made Isla’s own travels with her starstick seem that much more reckless. For a moment, she began to understand why Poppy and Terra had been so strict.

Isla did not want to create an heir.

She wasn’t ready. Did that make her horrible? Even more selfish?

She also didn’t want to live the rest of her life insulated and heavily guarded, knowing her death would mean the end of all her people . . .

“There are other ways to have an heir, beyond the obvious,” Azul said. “It is possible for rulers to transfer power, through a love bond, or special relics.” Like the bondmaker, Isla thought. “The cost is high, however. Permanently transferring ability shortens a ruler’s life significantly.”

That didn’t seem like a viable option either. She had barely had a life. She wanted to be able to live it.

“You look like you’re about to be sick,” Azul said.

“It’s the height.”

Azul made a sound like he knew the truth. “It is an honor to rule but not always a pleasure, Isla.” He squeezed her hand. “Go, visit your people. Face them. Be honest with them. You are their ruler. Whether or not you have deemed yourself worthy, you are all they have.”

That, Isla decided, was what she was most afraid of.





CORONATION


There were fewer Wildlings left than she thought.

Months before, she had addressed her people. Now, only a fraction remained. They looked weak. There were details she hadn’t noticed before, when she had been so focused on her journey to the Centennial. Now, she saw the signs clearly. A woman with short hair, crudely cut, wore a torn top that revealed all-too-visible ribs. Another looked far too pale, lips chapped, face devoid of color. They had learned to make enough food; she had seen them. She supposed it would take some time for consistent nourishment to make them healthy again.

Some details were the same. A portion of her people had animal companions near them, just like the day she left. Wildlings were known for their affinity with creatures. Poppy had a hummingbird that flew around her hair. Terra had a great panther.

She had always wanted an animal companion. It would have made her life far less lonely.

Terra had always said no.

Isla opened her mouth to speak. Before she could, they did something she couldn’t have expected. Didn’t deserve.

One by one, they bowed.

“No, I—”

They had never done that before. Isla had never demanded it. It wasn’t a custom she was used to.

She didn’t like it. Anxiety thrummed across her skin, and she wanted to yell that they should be screaming at her, calling her names, telling her everything she had done wrong up until this point. They looked like they were still dying. She was a failure, not a hero.

Isla stepped back, words caught in her throat, when a woman with a capybara next to her said, “You broke the curses. You did what all other rulers for centuries could not.”

She frowned. “How do you—how do you know that?”

“Terra told us.”

Terra? The name was a dagger to the chest. How had her guardians even known she was the one to break the curses? Why had Terra told them, after being banished?

Had she defied Isla’s order? Was she still here, on the newland?

“Where is Terra now?” the woman asked. “She was here . . . and then she vanished. And Poppy?” No. Not still here.

“I don’t know,” Isla said honestly. She thought about telling them about the banishment, but she needed to first get a sense of their allegiance. Would they be loyal to her . . . or to the guardians who had mostly ruled the Wildlings since her birth? “Please stand,” she said. She told them everything else. That she’d believed she had been born without powers. That she had a device that allowed her to portal at will. That she now had Starling power. When she was finished, she said, “I have not been a good ruler. I don’t know your struggles. Speak candidly, please. I know you must have questions. Ask them. Tell me what you need.”

Something flickered in her vision. Isla turned, and for the slightest second, she saw Grim, standing among the crowd, watching her.

She froze. Panic dropped through her stomach.

A blink, and he was gone.

Someone asked a question, and she didn’t hear it.

She shook her head. “Sorry, what did you say?” Her ears were ringing. First, the vision in the Place of Mirrors. Then, his voice in her head. Now, she was seeing him . . . What was next?

What was wrong with her?

“I asked what is happening on the island.”

She wondered how much she should say. “There is uncertainty on Lightlark right now. The realms are divided. There are signs of rebellion. We also have reason to believe Nightshades might try to attack Lightlark, like they have in the past.” She attempted a smile. “Once all of that is dealt with, I hope to have us all back on Lightlark one day,” she said. “This has been our home for five centuries, but it is weakened. Lightlark is where we have always belonged.”

There were some murmurs, but no one spoke out against her. She hoped that was a good sign.

She answered their questions as best she could, then sought out a woman who wore purple flowers through the ends of her hair, the color of leadership. She was tall, with light skin, dark hair, and sharp eyes. Her name was Wren, and Isla learned she led one of the larger villages on the newland.