Before it fully settled, she heard footsteps in front of her. The puddle shrank and disappeared.
She looked up, only to find Grim standing in the center of the road.
“You,” he said.
You.
The guards caught up to her then. She was roughly hauled to her feet, against one of them. He smelled of smoke and sweat. Before she could reach for her dagger, a dozen blades were at her throat.
Grim’s eyes did not leave hers as he waved his hand and said, “Take her to the cells.”
Her wrists were shackled to the ceiling. It had been hours, and her arms ached. The guards had taken her cloak, as if it had disgusted them that she dared wear their color. They had taken her starstick too.
Grim appeared in front of her cell and frowned. “Is that supposed to pass for black?”
He was looking at her silk dress.
She hadn’t intended for it to be seen. She wasn’t wearing anything beneath it. Her hands weren’t available to cover up parts that she didn’t want him to see, but he didn’t even bother looking, giving her body the most cursory of glances before meeting her eyes.
“Demon,” was all she said.
“Fool,” he responded.
That she could not argue with.
She was the biggest fool in the realms for returning to this place when something bad happened every time she did.
With barely a move of his finger, the chains holding her to the ceiling melted into ash.
She fell to the ground in an undignified heap.
Grim studied her while she clutched her wrists, both raw and red. “You swore not to return.”
Isla looked up at him. “No.”
“No?”
“The promise from the duel was that I wouldn’t return here, which, in the moment, meant your bathroom. Which I have no intention of ever doing again, don’t you worry.”
He looked at her with unfiltered disdain. “What are you doing on Nightshade?”
She said nothing.
Grim turned to go, and she rose to her feet. “You’re keeping me here?”
He looked over his shoulder. “You appear in my realm, using a stolen relic. You stab me in the chest. You return and hide in my chambers. Then, you return yet again and attack an innocent man in the middle of the street.”
She made a sound of indignation. “Innocent? He wanted to scalp me and sell my hair by the strand!”
Grim’s eyes narrowed. “What type of people did you expect to encounter at the night market, Hearteater?” he asked. That last word dripped with mockery.
“My name is Isla,” she said through her teeth, stepping closer to glare at him right through the bars of her cell.
“I will never call you that.”
“Why?”
He looked down at her. “Calling someone by their first name is a sign of familiarity. Of respect.”
Her nostrils flared. “You don’t respect me?”
“You don’t seem to respect your own life. Why should I?”
She scoffed. “Fine. Don’t respect me. I don’t care. You weren’t why I came here.”
“Clearly. Why are you here?” he demanded.
Isla crossed her arms, both in annoyance and to cover up her chest, inconveniently prickling in the freezing prison. “Why are you here?” she asked. “You clearly would love to see me rot. And it would benefit you at the Centennial.” As soon as she said the words, she regretted them. What if he turned away and never returned? What would she do? Escape was impossible without her starstick. She would waste away far beneath Nightshade. Even Celeste wouldn’t be able to free her. She didn’t even know Isla was venturing here for the gloves, didn’t know she had met the Nightshade ruler before—
“I believe . . . we might be able to help each other,” Grim said.
Shock rendered her silent.
“We are looking for the same thing.”
Isla frowned. “You’re looking for skin gloves?”
He looked at her strangely. “No. You are looking for a way to survive the Centennial, are you not?”
Of course she was. She didn’t say a thing.
“I have a deal for you, then.”
“A deal?”
He nodded. “I’m looking for a sword. I believe you can help me get it.”
“What sword?” And why would he possibly think she could help him?
“A powerful one that very few people know exist,” was all he said.
“What exactly does it do? What does it look like?”
He bared his teeth. “Do you think I’ll tell you so you can rush off and try to find it yourself?”
“I wouldn’t do that.” That was exactly what she was planning to do. “So, I help you get the sword. What do I get out of it?”
Grim looked pointedly at the bars. “For starters, you wouldn’t freeze to death in this cell, in that flimsy dress.” Isla had dropped her arms, but she covered her chest again. “And, if you can help me, I will not only agree not to kill you at the Centennial, but I will also be your ally.”
“You—you’ve decided to attend?”
“Only if you help me find the sword.”
His aid would be invaluable. With Grim by her side—along with Celeste—she might really have a chance of surviving the hundred days on the island.
Still. Grim couldn’t be trusted. She and Celeste had a plan. She would find a way to get the gloves. “No.”
Grim’s shadows flared around him. “No?”
She shrugged. “No.”
His fingers twitched, as if desperate to turn her to ash, just as he had done with the shackles. Instead, he said, “Very well,” and turned to leave.
He made it to the end of the hall before she said, “Wait. You wouldn’t leave me here, would you?”
“I would.”
Her eyes bulged. No, no, he wouldn’t.
Who was she kidding? He was the ruler of Nightshade. Famed for his cruelty. He had killed thousands in his lifetime.
His steps retreated once more, before she said, “Fine! Fine. But only if you return my starstick.”
His lip curled back in disgust. “Your what?”
“My portaling device.”
With a flick of his wrist, it was in his hand. “I feel strongly that I will regret this,” he said, eyes narrowed, as he slipped it to her.
She grinned, cradling it in her arms. It was her most prized possession. Grim just frowned at her.
That was how she made a deal with a demon.
REVELATIONS
“There is a sword.”
Isla recounted her memory to Oro. It was the first one that seemed remotely helpful. “He said I could help him find it. He said it was powerful.”
Oro’s brows came slightly together. “Do you know anything else about it?”
“Not yet. But it might be the weapon the oracle says he has.”
Oro nodded. “Then we need to find out what it does.”
By the end of the day, Oro had dozens of people in every library and archive, searching for records of important swords.
Isla knew the answers would not be found in books but her own mind.
She just needed to remember.
The Wildlings didn’t seem surprised at the idea of war.
“This is what we’ve always trained for,” Wren said. There were nods around her.