Nightbane (Lightlark, #2)(109)
“I’m not hurt,” she said. “But . . .”
He crossed his arms across his chest. “Yes?”
She tried to give him her best smile. “It’s nothing bad! Don’t get upset.”
His expression didn’t change. He looked down at her and said, “Hearteater, what is it?”
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Then, she said, “I should probably just show you.” She pulled out her starstick, but before she portaled away, planning to bring her discovery to his room, Grim grabbed her arm, taking himself with her.
Which meant he portaled right to the tree where she had leashed her—
“Dragon,” Grim said, staring down at the little bundle of black scales. “Hearteater . . .” he said. “You didn’t.”
Isla knelt next to the little dragon. She had found it wandering alone, near the cave. “I think he was abandoned by his mother,” she said. “Because he’s small. Or injured. I’m not sure yet.”
The dragon was small enough that she could hold him in her arms. His black scales glimmered like a collection of dark gems. His head was rounded. She hadn’t seen him spread his wings yet.
“Think of him as . . . a pet.” Her eyes darted to him and back to the dragon again. “For you.”
He looked at her like he was trying to evaluate her mental condition. “You think I am going to keep this creature in my quarters?”
“Yes,” she said. “I think you are. Because I am asking you to.”
His eyes flashed with disbelief.
“Please, Grim,” she said.
Isla knew he would refuse. Her mind sifted through different places she might be able to take the dragon on Wildling. Maybe she could hide it in the forest and visit between trainings? Maybe she could find someone who would make a good caretaker?
But without another word, Grim frowned, picked up the tiny dragon, held it as far away from his body as he could manage, and portaled them away.
“We need a name,” she said after a week.
“A name? It should be grateful it has a home.”
“Grim.”
“Yes, Hearteater?”
“Stop being so cruel. Look, it just dipped its head. You made it sad.”
Grim whipped around to face her with a look of pure incredulity. “You think that animal can speak?”
She glared at him. “No. I think just like another beast in this room, it might be able to sense emotion. Or, at the very least, tone.” Isla sat down and scooped the dragon into her lap. She stroked a finger between its eyes, and it sighed. “It’s okay,” she cooed. “He’s mean to everyone.”
Grim raised an eyebrow at her. “Is that what we’re calling what I did to you last night? Mean?”
Isla felt her cheeks flush. The dragon tilted its head at her in curiosity, and she wondered if it really did understand them.
“That thing keeps flying into my bed at night,” Grim said.
“That’s adorable!” Isla exclaimed.
Grim looked at her in a way that could only be described as a fusion of disgust and horror. His favorite expression. She looked at him and thought she had never been happier.
FORGIVE ME
It hadn’t worked. None of those memories had been useful. If anything, they had been ruinous. Now Isla felt far more conflicted about what she had to do.
Oro met her in the Mainland woods. She had practiced dipping her hand into the link between them and attempting to hold his powers. She could only ever do it for a moment at a time.
“It will only take me a moment to kill him,” Oro said. “You won’t have to hold for long.”
Kill him. Some echo of her past screamed against the words. She pushed the doubt away.
“You must hate me,” Isla said.
Oro’s brows came together. “Hate you?”
“Yes,” she said. “I summoned Grim. It—it was reckless.”
“It was,” he agreed, “but it helped you come up with your plan. It could save us, if it works.”
She looked at him, incredulous. He should hate her. His endless patience and forgiveness was infuriating, because it couldn’t possibly be real.
Enya was right. Oro deserved better than her. She wasn’t good for him.
“I’m broken, Oro,” she said. “You should really—you should really find someone else to love.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Do you think that’s how this works?” he asked. “Do you think love is something you can control?”
She put her hands up. “I’m a mess. I see the way you look at me. I can imagine the things you want. A future. What if I—what if I’m not ready for any of that?”
His gaze did not falter. “I have waited hundreds of years for you,” he said. “You have no idea how patient I can be.”
Tears burned her eyes as she looked at him. “I don’t deserve your love.”
“Is that what you believe?”
She nodded. She really did. “You don’t know,” she said. “I—I’m awful inside. My mind is a mess. I’m a mess.” She shook her head. “One day I’m going to do something, and you’re going to see. You’re going to see me. The real me. The worst me.”