Nightbane (Lightlark, #2)(76)

“How does it feel?” she whispered.

He looked over at her. “How does what feel?”

“Not being the scary, all-powerful Nightshade ruler anymore. In a crowd like this.”

Grim gave her a look. “I could still kill everyone here with my sword.”

“Not me.”

His eyes were back on the street. “Are you forgetting the results of our duel?”

“I didn’t hate you as much as I do now. I’m sure that very fact would help me win.”

“Is that so?”

“Absolutely.”

Speaking of the crowd . . . “How do you know a celebration like this will draw him out?” The mysterious thief. The one with the snake who had been seen nearby.

“I don’t. But if he is here, all this . . . distraction will be useful.”

Distraction was one word for it.

Thousands of people made currents through the streets and filled each shop to the brim, so much so that she watched someone fall through an open window in a bar and land right in a pile of vomit.

Demonstrations, shows, and betting rounds were going on. Cards were being played. By the sounds coming from alleyways, every type of desire was being fulfilled.

“We know he has a snake. How else are we supposed to find him?” She looked over at him. “Do you know how to get information without cutting off hands?”

Grim glanced over at her. Not a minute later, he stopped in front of a woman. She had five drinks in her hands and looked about to take the order of a group of people sitting outside a bar.

Isla watched the woman’s entire face change as she took him in. His wide shoulders, his height. Her expression went from annoyed to curious in an instant. Even from a few steps down the street, she couldn’t hear what they were saying over the music and drunken jeers. The woman was saying something, and then she placed a hand on his arm, and he let her. Something uncomfortable that she didn’t want to name curled in her stomach.

When Grim returned, he looked far too smug. “I know where to find him.”

Isla didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking surprised or impressed. “Good. Lead the way.”

They didn’t have to walk far. Minutes later, they entered a massive tent. “That’s him.” The him was a man wearing his shirt completely open, revealing a muscular chest. He had pale skin, hair cut close to his head, and, most remarkable of all, a viper wrapped around his shoulders.

The thief was with a group of people—his collaborators, no doubt—sitting front row at a very . . . interesting show.

People with fabric draped over them—and little else underneath—danced in front of bright lights, turning the sheets they held completely sheer. Every inch of their bodies was visible. Some wore nothing underneath; others wore limited underclothes. The man was watching them intensely, elbows on his knees.

All right. There he was. Somehow, they would have to get information from him. “He seems preoccupied. How are we—”

Grim looked from the dancers to Isla. Then back again.

She scoffed. “Absolutely not, you cursed demon—”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Then we’ll find another way. I just thought, you being a temptress and all, you could use your powers, since I’m unable to use mine.”

Powers. She was supposed to be a cursed hearteater, able to tempt a person with a single look. Capable of bringing anyone to their knees with her seduction. Somehow he hadn’t seemed to notice her powerlessness, beyond a few pointed statements. He couldn’t find out she didn’t have ability. What if that was why he was working with her in the first place? Would he rescind his offer to help her during the Centennial?

Roaring began filling her ears. They hadn’t found the skin gloves. She and Celeste needed him. Her people needed her. They were suffering.

“Can’t you just torture the information out of him?” she asked. Suddenly, that option sounded a lot more appealing.

Grim looked amused. “Of course I can, Hearteater. But one of the most infamous thieves, one of the only people who knows about the sword, turning up dead in such a violent fashion? It would be suspicious . . .” He shrugged a shoulder. “I suppose, if you are unable to actually use your powers—”

“Of course I can,” she said quickly.

Grim looked unconvinced. “It’s fine. We’ll find another—”

“No.” She was suddenly intent on wiping that look off his face. She reached back into her dress and shoved her starstick at him. “Take this from me, and you’ll see my other Wildling curses in action,” she said.

Then she turned on her heel, toward the tent behind the stage.


All her previous bravado was gone. She had traded one of the girls in the show a ruby from her necklace in exchange for her extra set of clothing. Now, she stood just offstage, trembling. Her chest was covered only by a thick strip of black fabric. Her other parts were covered only by a skirt that truly had not earned that description, for it barely concealed anything.

The sheet was over her, but she had seen it at work in the light. Everything would be revealed. She would be revealed.

Get it together, she told herself. Her people were starving. The mark above her heart was only the faintest scar now, but the encounter had left more than torn flesh behind. She had seen the women’s desperation. They looked guilty, but they were hungry. She was their ruler. It was her responsibility to do whatever she could to survive the Centennial and break their curse.