Oro was right, though. She was being haunted.
It wasn’t what was haunting her, but who.
She didn’t want to think about Grim right now. The only time her thoughts of him stopped was when she was with Oro.
She took a step toward him, and she changed the subject. “I missed you, the last few days,” she said, and it was the truth. Spending time with the Wildlings was important, but she had started to expect Oro’s presence. He was always there for her. So patient when they practiced. Even now, he recognized the signs that she wasn’t fine, when no one else did. He knew her.
Isla wanted to know him.
“I missed you too,” Oro said, looking surprised the words had fallen out of his mouth. He frowned, clearly frustrated that she had shifted the conversation.
She stared at his mouth. That mouth. How was it possible that they both knew they loved each other, yet they hadn’t so much as kissed?
Her heart began beating unsteadily. She wanted to know what it was like to touch him. She wanted to feel his heat against her bare body as they explored each other’s every inch in the dark.
Before she could say or do any of the things that had raced across her mind, Oro pressed his lips against the top of her head, said, “You need to rest,” and left.
She might have been more annoyed if he wasn’t right. Her body felt like it weighed a million pounds.
That night, she was so exhausted, she fell into her deepest sleep in weeks.
BEFORE
Isla was a fool.
That was what her own mind told herself, anyway, repeatedly, its favorite lullaby. Terra might have judged her harshly, but Isla was her own worst critic.
She was trying to be nicer to herself lately, so she might have convinced herself she was not a fool if she wasn’t objectively doing something astronomically foolish.
Her puddle of stars rippled before her, a slice of midnight. Her guardians were away for the day, visiting a local village. This was her chance. Before she could stop herself, she threw herself through, right into the Nightshade ruler’s room.
It was just how she remembered it.
Black marble floors. High, vaulted ceilings. A bed with simple black sheets.
Only one thing was missing: the towering ruler who had pressed her against that very wall, and—
She shook the thought away and gripped the vial in her hand. She was here for a very specific, very stupid reason. A few days prior, the Nightshade had appeared in her room and tricked her into revealing her portaling device. Before he could take it from her, she had cried and begged him to let her keep it. It hadn’t been one of her proudest moments.
Grim had called it his, and after witnessing his portaling power, she could only conclude that he must have enchanted it. Objects could be infused with power, she knew. It had a cost, though, shortened life, depending on how much ability was given.
Why had Grim made a portaling device? And how had it ended up in her room?
In the end—shocking her and likely him—he had disappeared, without taking it . . . which made her feel inexplicably guilty about having stabbed him in the chest. She didn’t like to be in someone’s debt, so she had brought something for him, as a peace offering.
So where was he?
Isla stood in the center of his room for half an hour, pulse racing, expecting to find a blade against her throat at any moment. Every minute that passed convinced her more how foolish this errand was. The starstick was hers now, but somehow she had convinced herself that him not stealing it from her was something to be thankful for.
Stupid. The more she thought about it, the more ridiculous it seemed. She was just about to form her puddle of stars and retreat to her room when she heard his voice.
It was joined by another. A man. She could barely make out their words. They were discussing some sort of strategy.
And both were getting closer. Closer.
Her starstick was lifeless in her lap. Of course it was. Of course. No time to try to coax it into working. She had to hide.
There was barely any furniture in the room. No desk to duck beneath. The bed didn’t have enough room under it.
But there was another door. She threw herself through it just as the men entered the room.
A bathroom. All black as well, though here the black marble floor was threaded through with silver veins. A massive onyx tub sat at the center. Its spout was located on the ceiling, twenty feet above. Under normal circumstances, Isla might have marveled at it—it truly was a beautiful concept, a stream of water falling from such a height into a tub, like a miniature waterfall—but right now, it was her hiding place. She tucked herself into the basin and brandished the starstick.
It was dead in her hands. Something about this place must make it difficult to use, she thought, which she probably should have considered before portaling herself here.
“Stupid,” she called herself as she willed the starstick to glow again. “Not you,” she whispered. “You’re brilliant.” The enchantment still didn’t light up. “Unless, of course, you don’t work—then you’re stupid too.”
The starstick was still dim when the bathroom door suddenly creaked open.
Isla didn’t dare take a breath. She closed her eyes tightly. Listened.
Leave, please leave . . .
The opposite of leaving. The sound of something light hitting the floor. A pause.
One step. Another.
Then, the stab of something sharp right through her chest—
Isla screamed.
Her dress was soaked through. But not with blood. She had been pierced by the cascade of water.
The stream abruptly shut off, and Isla sat up, only to come face-to-face with a ruler with a horrified expression on his face.
“Have you lost your mind?” he asked, the words sharp and filled with malice. He was shirtless.
Isla quickly looked away. She held something out toward him, palm open. “I—I came to give you something. As a thank-you—” No, she had already decided she didn’t need to thank him for not taking the thing she held most dear away from her. “—I mean, a peace offering. Here.”
She threw it in his general direction, and the only indication that he had caught it was the fact that no glass shattered against the smooth floor. After a few moments of silence, she dared look back at him. He was frowning down at the vial, which looked laughably small in his hand.
The elixir was something the Wildlings had been developing. The bud of a certain rare flower, when extracted correctly, produced an elixir that healed all wounds. There were only two problems. The first was that each flower produced only a tiny amount of useful nectar. The other was that the serum did nothing to remove pain.
“It’s a healing ointment. For—” She motioned toward his chest and winced. “For that.” Silence. He looked like a sculpture she had seen in a Wildling garden, perfect and almost scarless except for that massive cut right next to his heart. It was clear he had a Moonling treating him, or that would have been impossible. So, why hadn’t he fully treated this one yet? “For the scar,” she clarified, thinking he must be confused. “Listen. I didn’t mean to portal here before; it was a mistake. I didn’t plan on stabbing you. It was just—an instinct?” She spoke too quickly, trying to get the words out. “I came to offer peace. We don’t need to be enemies.”