Nightbane (Lightlark, #2)(53)

Lynx’s gaze sharpened.

“You must have known him, right? My . . . dad?”

The leopard blinked, and Isla didn’t know if that was confirmation.

“The oracle said I’m the key. I’m the only one who can remember why he wants to destroy Lightlark, and how. I’m the only one who knows about the mysterious weapon he has. Some sword.” She sighed. It was nice talking to someone, even if she wasn’t sure he was listening. “I’m the only one who can open a door that has rejected me already, that is apparently extremely important in all of this.” She laughed without humor, and Lynx just stared at her. “You know what? After the Centennial, I truly believed things could not get any worse. I was wrong. I . . . I was wrong about a lot of things.”

Lynx didn’t care. She knew that. She made to turn around, to leave him to his business, when he stopped her, with a quick nuzzle of his head that nearly sent her off-balance.

She turned around and found his head bent low. She reached out with careful fingers, and he allowed her to pet down his nose. His eyes closed, and he made a thrumming sound in his chest.

Her bonded didn’t hate her. That was a relief. At least, he didn’t hate her today.

Perhaps, Isla thought, it meant she had proven herself as a Wildling. Perhaps it meant she could finally open the vault.


Isla stood outside the hidden door. Voices echoed inside. It reminded her of being in the forest when her powers had first been released, a thousand mouths calling her forward. They were almost clear but muffled in meaning, like speaking underwater. She took another step and tried to listen. They became louder, more insistent.

A spark traveled up her spine, and she didn’t dare move too quickly, in case it broke the connection. This was it all along, she thought. All she needed to do was connect to the vault, the same way Oro had taught her to form a link to her abilities. The same way she had begun to form a connection with Lynx.

Something in her recognized something in the hidden door. It pulled her forward, a hand gripping a thread behind her navel. It all felt so natural, so right, so fitting, just like the crown clicking into the lock, every twist and ridge lining up. Just like turning it, and pulling it—

Closed. It remained closed. It didn’t move an inch, not even a sliver of an opening, like before. No force threw her across the room.

Just . . . nothing.

Isla ripped her crown from the lock and almost hurled it across the room. They had twenty-six days. Twenty-six days before—

Her vision flashed in front of her eyes, and she could almost smell the burning. She could almost feel the ashes landing on her bare arms as they swept over her in torrents. She coughed like the cinders were in her throat again, choking her. Screams sounded in her ears, followed by howls from dreks—

Dreks. That was new. She hadn’t seen them in her vision before. They had suspected the drek attack was from Grim, but this was confirmation.


“We were right. He has dreks,” Isla told Oro. She could still hear their howls in her head. “Last time was a bloodbath. How could we stand a chance against that many? Their skin is nearly impenetrable.”

Oro sighed. “Ever since the first drek attack, I’ve had my best team looking for a special type of ore. It was mined a millennia ago and requires Sunling and Starling power to turn it to metal. When weapons were made from it, it’s said that they could pierce even the thickest hides.”

“Have any of those weapons survived?”

He shook his head. “If they did, none of us know where they are. We’ve already checked the castle’s reserves.”

So they would have to make new ones. “Who’s looking for the ore? Have they had any progress?”

He looked at her. He seemed . . . almost nervous. “You’ve met Enya. Now, it’s time for you to meet the rest of my friends.”

Just an hour later, Oro led Isla into a room located in a turret at the back of the Mainland castle, with massive, curved windows overlooking the sea. A round table sat in its center, crafted from solid gold. It was a war strategy room. Oro walked to the windows and looked out at the horizon, in the direction of Nightshade.

Enya swept into the room at that moment. Her expression was pointed in concentration.

Two men who could not look more different walked in behind her. The only thing they shared was their significant height.

The much larger of the two was a Moonling. He had brown skin and a shock of white hair. His eyes were bright blue, framed by thick, dark lashes. He wore a sleeveless white tunic, and had the most muscled arms she had ever seen.

The other was Skyling. He was tall—though still shorter than the Moonling—and lean. He had dark hair that tinted blue in the light, pale skin, and sharp cheekbones.

He narrowed his eyes at Isla and said, “So. You’re the reason Oro doesn’t see us anymore.”

Enya gave him a look. “No, the reason he doesn’t see us anymore is because the last time we got together, you called him an uptight wretch and asked when the last time he bedded someone was.”

Isla raised an eyebrow. She glanced at Oro, who was glaring at his friends.

The Moonling sat down at the first available chair. “Well, he was dying,” he said, shrugging. “He gets a partial pass on being a wretch.”

“How generous of you,” Oro said. He sighed and turned to Isla. “This is Calder.”