Nightbane (Lightlark, #2)(45)

Shouts. Screams.

“Nothing will be left. You can choose to flee to your newlands . . . or join me in a new future. The choice is simple. Fighting is futile. The ruin coming is inevitable.”





HISTORY


Isla flew down from the sky, carried by Ciel and Avel, who each gripped her beneath a shoulder. Before, she would have been afraid of the height. Now, she didn’t have room for such a simple fear. She landed on Cleo’s castle steps and within minutes was surrounded by white-wearing guards. They had sloshing water pouches along their hips, water ready to wield into weapons.

Cleo came sweeping down from one of the highest balconies of the castle, on the back of a waterfall. When she landed, the water froze, a wide white halo around her feet. “The brave little Wildling,” she said. “What have you come to crow?”

“Stay,” Isla said.

The Moonling looked intrigued. “Here I was, thinking we were enemies.”

“You’re not my enemy,” Isla said. “I’ve watched your every move. You always do what’s best for your realm. Leaving Lightlark would be a mistake.”

“Would it?” she said, seeming bored.

“Lightlark is the base of your abilities. If you leave and Lightlark falls, your people won’t last.”

Cleo almost smiled. Surprisingly, it didn’t look cruel. Her expression, more than anything, seemed sad. “You know so little,” she said, her voice empty of any contempt. “You assume you know my motivations. You assume your facts are truth.”

Isla narrowed her eyes. “You found something out before the last Centennial. That’s why you didn’t attend. That’s why you’ve been building ships. That’s why you are considering evacuating your people from Lightlark. Isn’t it?”

Cleo said nothing. The Moonling only tilted her head at Isla, as if appraising a dull rock, searching for any hidden glint.

Isla took a step forward. “Answer me,” she yelled, and thorns grew around her wrists, out of nowhere, trailing down to the floor.

A dozen Moonling guards surrounded her in seconds. Avel and Ciel were at her sides, each of their hands on her arms, ready to fly her to safety. She had her starstick just in case. She felt invincible.

The Moonling frowned at the thorns dripping from Isla’s palms. “What a waste,” Cleo said, then she turned toward the massive, frozen doors of her palace.

“We could work together,” Isla said.

That made the Moonling stop in her tracks. She turned around, the hem of her white dress hissing across the iced-over stone.

Isla took her chance. “Wildlings and Moonlings are more similar than you might like to imagine,” she said. “You have frozen, infertile lands. We have started to learn how to grow crops again. We could help you, so you don’t have to rely on fishing. You can vary your diets.” Lately, Moonlings weren’t seen in the markets. They had almost completely cut themselves off from the other realms.

The Moonling’s expression remained as still as the frost beneath her feet. Unconvinced.

“We are also healers,” she said. “The elixir I demonstrated during the Centennial—we know how to make it. Between your people’s natural healing abilities and the ones we can extract from nature, we could mend almost anything.”

Cleo stared at her for a moment. Another. Then, she turned away again.

“What happened?” Isla asked. “What happened a century ago? Why didn’t you attend the fourth Centennial?”

At that, ice swept across the isle. It rippled in every direction and hardened beneath Isla’s feet. She had to sprout vines from her hands to root her in place, to keep from slipping. Ciel and Avel braced her sides, wind circling around their bodies to keep them still.

Cleo turned. “You dare ask me a question like that?”

Isla took a step forward, beyond her Skyling guards, her roots digging into the ice, keeping her grounded. “I do,” she said. “Something happened. What was it?”

For the fraction of a second, Isla caught a sliver of real emotion that made its way past the Moonling’s normally icy mask. Pain.

Cleo could feel pain?

“We both want the same thing. For our realms to survive.

We can help each other.” Cleo looked doubtful, and Isla growled. “I know you hate me, but you love your people. Do it for them.”

To her immense surprise, the Moonling smirked. “I don’t hate you,” she said. Then she turned, and the ice around her retracted, curling back to its source.

Only when she was almost at the palace’s front doors did Isla hear the Moonling ruler say, “I’ll consider it,” before sweeping inside.


Grim was coming to destroy Lightlark in twenty-nine days.

From her vision, she had figured an attack was inevitable, but that didn’t help the pain of knowing someone she once cared about was set on destroying everything she now loved.

Oro was irrevocably connected to Lightlark, as king. If the island fell . . . so would he.

All representatives were called for a meeting first thing the next morning. Isla hadn’t told Oro about her visit to Cleo the night prior. As she watched the door, her hope the Moonling would stay withered. Grim’s declaration of an attack was the perfect excuse for Cleo to leave Lightlark once and for all, on her ships. The Moonling newland was well established and not under threat. It would be so easy for Cleo to take her people and flee.