She would have been skewered on his sword if he hadn’t been holding her up with a firm hand against her chest. His blade’s tip was positioned right against her heart.
He had won.
“I don’t ever want to see you in my lands again,” he said.
Then, he vanished, leaving Isla to fall face-first into the bog sand.
GOLDEN ROSE
Isla awoke on the floor, having fallen out of bed. Sunlight streamed through the gap in her curtains.
No. Another dream had turned into a memory. They were getting stronger. Longer.
They had dueled. The match they’d had during the Centennial hadn’t been their first. Grim’s skill hadn’t been nearly as impressive then. She’d been so pleased with herself, being able to best an ancient warrior. But no . . . she knew now he had clearly been holding back. He’d wanted her to look strong in front of the others, so they would think twice about attacking her.
Her hands curled into fists as the realization settled into her mind. “The demon let me win.”
If Isla couldn’t stop the visions, she could at least replace them—make new memories to erase the past. Erase him.
Oro and Isla had just finished training. She had managed to roll a boulder across a field without touching it at all. The heavier the object, the more concentration it required. She’d rushed to move the rock, to finish the lesson early. Because afterward—
It was time to do something bold. Make clear exactly what she wanted.
She had just taken a shower. Her hair was still damp. She had summoned Oro to her room, and when she stepped out of the bathroom, he was waiting, freshly showered himself.
Isla might have laughed at the expression on Oro’s face if she wasn’t so nervous. She had never seen him go so still. She wasn’t sure he was even breathing.
His gaze was a brand as it traveled up her bare legs, to the red lace that left little to the imagination.
Oro rose from the seat he had been waiting on, his movements slow, like he was using every ounce of his well-practiced control. He walked one, two, three steps, eyes never leaving hers, until he was before her. “Are you trying to torture me?” His voice was thick.
She repeated the same words as before. “Yes. Let me?”
He didn’t even smile at her attempt at humor. He just stared, then closed his eyes tightly. “Isla,” he said, her name a prayer.
She waited for him to sweep her off her feet, to crush her against the wall, to feel every part of him against every practically bare part of her.
But he did not move an inch.
Isla shook her head. “I don’t understand. I can feel it. You love me. Why—why won’t you touch me?” She had tried to touch him multiple times—had tried to kiss him, to get close to him, to make clear what she wanted. Every time, he had rejected her. The realization came at her like a sword hilt to the temple. “Are you—are you not attracted to me?”
He said nothing, and she suddenly felt ridiculous. Of course he could love her without wanting her in that way. Various shades of love existed. She was so stupid, so foolish for just assuming—
“I’m sorry, I—”
Oro had her pressed against the wall before she could say another word. He was looming over her, eyes filled with a burning intensity that made heat pool everywhere. “Isla,” he said. “Attracted does not begin to describe what I feel for you.”
She swallowed, and his eyes went to her throat. He reached out a tentative hand and traced a line over her collarbone. Lower. Down her chest, across the mark where an arrow had pierced her heart.
“Every time I see you, I think the gods must play favorites. Every time you’re near me, I am overcome with the urge to bed you, to have you, again and again. I want to devour every inch of you, until you’re all I taste, until you are shaking with pleasure in my arms. That is what I want.”
Isla had never wanted a person more in her entire life. She pressed against him. “Then do it. All of it.”
She glanced down, and the evidence of his want was clear. It made her heart race to an impossible speed. With shaking hands, she unbuttoned the clasp of her top until it dropped. He looked at her like he wanted to spend a week with her, locked in this room.
But he only closed his eyes and said, “Isla. I want everything with you. But not now.”
“Why not?” she asked, tears hot behind her eyes. She willed them not to fall, knowing she looked pathetic enough already.
His expression softened. “You’re struggling, love.” He took her hand. “I feel like I’m watching you fade, day by day, and I don’t know what to do.” He surprised her by going down on one knee, his gaze never leaving hers. The king of Lightlark was kneeling before her. “Tell me how to help you. I’ll do anything. Give you anything. Just tell me.”
The tears fell freely now. “I can’t,” she said.
He rose and cupped her face, smoothing her tears away with his thumbs. His palms were hot as coals, and she leaned into them. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. You are not alone. You do not face the world alone anymore.”
Isla closed her eyes. It was hard to swallow; it was like her throat was swollen and raw, trying to keep the words down.
This secret . . . It was too much to bear. The memories were trickling in against her will; she was defenseless against them. Isla had told Oro she trusted him. That was true, wasn’t it? If she couldn’t tell him what was happening to her, then who?
Her eyes were still closed as she said, “I’m starting to remember.”
She felt him stiffen in front of her. She opened her eyes, and Oro . . . his gaze was fire. He was angry, so angry—
Isla squirmed beneath his hands. Was he mad at her? She suddenly felt deeply ashamed for some reason, laid even more bare than she already was. “I’m sorry,” she said, and she wasn’t sure why.
Oro’s eyes softened immediately. “Isla, don’t ever apologize for something that isn’t your fault.” A muscle in his jaw shifted. “This is his fault.”
She understood now. Oro looked murderous because he wanted to kill Grim. He was the reason she was suffering.
She nodded. She agreed, and she hated him, hated him. She needed Oro to know that. “I despise him,” she said, words shaking in her mouth. “He is a monster, and I . . . I don’t want to remember.” She shook her head. “I’m trying my best to block them out, but with my powers untangled . . . I tried not to sleep, and it worked, for a while. But . . . I think things are starting to remind me of him, unlocking those memories. He went into my room during the Centennial; I don’t think that helps. He was in my mirror. It’s driving me mad. All I see when I close my eyes is him—”
“Move into my room,” Oro said immediately.
Isla blinked. “What?”
“He’s certainly never been there.” Lest she suggest moving into any other room that wasn’t his, he added, “It’s the most protected place in the castle, should he be trying to reach you through other means. You can take it. I’ll stay somewhere else.”
Isla didn’t want him to stay anywhere else. The fact that she was wearing only lace in front of him was proof of that. But Oro wouldn’t hear of it.