Nightbane (Lightlark, #2)(75)

The woman nodded. “You’re putting it together, I can see it . . . your face is very expressive . . . not a very good trait as a ruler, is it?” She stepped forward, and it took everything in Isla not to recoil.

“The little girl,” Isla said, her voice shaking. “Is she—”

“She’s gone,” the woman said quickly. “Not me . . . but . . . all the same, there’s nothing left.”

Isla’s bottom lip trembled. Her eyes stung. Poor girl . . . she should have been here to protect her. “You . . . you kill children,” she said, her voice full of disgust.

The woman’s lip curled away from her mouth, baring teeth that were far too sharp. “Oh, and other Wildlings didn’t?” she took a step forward. “We have done what we needed to survive. We needed food. We’re no different from you.”

We. Were there more like her? Serpent-people? Or were the other ancient, deadly creatures different?

“It ends now,” Isla said. “I rule Starling, and you will stop killing them.”

The woman just looked at her. “Tell them to stop coming to this part of the isle,” she said. “We never hunted; we simply took whatever came wandering in. We could have killed them all, you know.”

Killed them all.

Isla wanted to kill the serpent-woman right then . . . but she thought about Zed’s words. They could use beings like her in battle.

“Nightshades are coming to destroy the island,” Isla said. “You will fight with us.” It was a command.

The woman looked at her. Then, she laughed. It was too loud, like the roar of the serpent, like the clap of thunder that sounded above. “Now . . . when you asked that, did you really believe I would say yes?”

Isla stepped forward. She worked every bit of command into her voice as she said, “You are Wildling. I am your ruler, and I am ordering you.”

The woman bared her teeth. Before Isla’s eyes, her dress became a tail. It took her half a second to be upon Isla, growing larger and larger, rising, serpent part piling beneath her. “I was Wildling,” she said. “I will not fight for you or anyone else on this island.” She leaned back as if to strike again. “I will let you live today, and you should take that as a gift.”

Avel was on her feet. Blood dripped down the side of her head, but she looked capable of flying. Before Avel and Ciel lifted her between them, Isla said, “You will not kill another Starling.”

She could hear the woman laughing as they took to the air and left.

It was only once she was in bed that night that Isla remembered a very different encounter with a snake.





BEFORE


Music thrummed through the day. Drums, everywhere. Laughter. Jeers. The sharp smell of alcohol that was so concentrated, it burned her nostrils.

Some people walked through the streets nearly naked, covered only in scantily used body paint. There were designs painted across their chests, their legs, their stomachs. Others lined the sides of the road, shouting. They all had blades on their belts and drinks in their hands.

Everyone was wearing masks.

Her own was tight to her face, but she reached to put her hair behind her ear, just for an excuse to touch its edge, to be sure her mask was secure. Grim had thrown the mask and a scrap of fabric at her the second he had appeared in her room.

“Today’s the longest night of the year. There’s a celebration at Creetan’s Crag. During the day, obviously.”

She had caught it and frowned. “Masks?”

“Everyone wears them.”

Isla had scowled as she let the dress unravel in front of her. “Does everyone wear this?” It was black and gave her Wildling clothing competition for impropriety. It hung by two thin straps that looked one wrong move away from snapping, had the lowest-cut bodice she had ever seen and a slit so high, there was very little fabric in the middle holding it all together.

Grim didn’t meet her eyes. “Most people do choose to wear little clothing, yes. At least, at celebrations like this. Some just wear paint.” He stared at her then, an eyebrow raised. “Would you prefer I get a pot of ink and a brush?”

That had sent her behind her dressing curtain without another complaint. She didn’t have a full-length mirror in there, so it wasn’t until she was in front of him that she saw herself clearly.

Her breasts were pressed together and spilling over the top. The slit was so high, she’d had to forgo underclothes altogether.

Grim stared at her and looked, more than anything, horrified.

“Do I look Nightshade?” she asked, a note of panic in her voice. She smeared bright paint across her lips, the same way she had the first time she had met him, which seemed to be a Nightshade fashion. Then she put on her mask. He hadn’t answered, so she turned back to him, only to find his eyes still on her. “Hmm?”

“It’ll do,” he had said gruffly and extended his hand.

Now, as they walked through Creetan’s Crag, Grim looked straight ahead. Even if he wasn’t looking at her, others were. She felt their gazes on her and resisted the urge to press her hand against the slit, to ensure it didn’t expose more than her leg.

Grim seemed more on edge than usual. He couldn’t use his powers, on the off chance that the sword was close by. They’d had to portal far away and walk for nearly an hour as a precaution.