As if she would ever tell any of them. They would all call her a fool for working with the Nightshade. They would ensure she could never leave her room again until the Centennial.
“What about the blacksmith? He knows we’re looking for it.”
Grim shook his head gruffly. “He won’t remember.”
She tilted her head at him. “Why?”
“Few people are foolish enough to visit him in the first place. But, in an abundance of caution, I took his memories away.”
Isla blinked. “That’s something . . . you can do?”
He nodded, as if it were not the cruelest power in the world.
“It’s . . . permanent?”
“If I want it to be.”
She shivered. There were still so many unanswered questions. If he needed the sword so badly, why didn’t he look for it before? Why now? What had changed?
Isla wondered if she should back out. Grim was clearly using her. Now she wasn’t even sure if what he had promised was worth the risk.
She and Celeste had a plan for the Centennial. She hadn’t managed to find the skin gloves, but there was still time. Almost a year.
Isla looked around her room. The glass cage. Grim was insufferable, but the search for the sword promised something she had longed for since she was a child. Freedom. Escape, for just a while.
“So . . .” she said, wondering if she was making a huge mistake. The blacksmith had said the sword was stolen and last sensed on Grim’s territory. “Who are the best thieves on Nightshade?”
PREMONITION
There was still no word on the Skyling vote. It had been pushed back, after much debate. Most Wildlings trained for war, and the rest worked nonstop to make more healing elixirs. Starlings on the newland were creating special armor for them, infused with energy.
Now, she needed to focus on the shield. Maren had promised Isla a list of the greatest wielders on Star Isle, to determine how large it would be.
Days had passed without her request being fulfilled. It was unlike Maren, who had managed all other aspects of preparing for the incoming war and evacuation with ease. Enya had helped Isla provide direct aid to Star Isle in the last few weeks—food, resources, guards at their bridge—and Maren had managed everything without issue.
She was clearly surprised to see Isla when she stepped foot on Star Isle.
“Isla,” Maren said. “I wasn’t expecting you today. We can get—”
“Who is the best Starling at wielding?” Isla asked. “Just—just take me to them.” Her tone was harsh, but Grim was coming in only twenty days. They couldn’t waste a moment.
Maren didn’t meet her eyes. It took her several seconds to even say a word. “There are a few who are skilled. I can take you to them.”
“No,” Isla said. “Who is the best?” She frowned. “Is it—is it you?” Was that why Maren had been evasive?
Maren shook her head.
“Then who?”
The Starling met her eyes. The intensity there took Isla aback. “The king hasn’t changed his mind about taking fighters who aren’t volunteers?”
“No. No one is being forced to fight. We just need energy for the shield.”
“Can . . . can the pooling of energy be anonymous?”
Anonymous? Isla was getting irritated. “I suppose so. Why?”
Maren’s expression became more intense than usual. “Promise me,” she said. “If I tell you, promise that you won’t tell anyone.”
Isla frowned. She was her ruler. She didn’t have to make promises in exchange for information. Still, she saw the fierceness in Maren’s face and nodded. “I won’t tell anyone but the king.”
Maren considered. She closed her eyes. “I will show you,” she said.
She took her to a field of craters. They were holes in the isle like stars had fallen from the sky and left their marks. Someone stood in one of the craters’ center.
Streams of silver shot from their hands in glittering ribbons. They whipped against the sides of the crater, piercing the rock, slicing through it like butter. Creatures formed from the sparks, and they slithered, jumped, flew around the crater, contained only by its perimeter. It was a dazzling display of power.
It was Cinder.
Isla’s mouth had dropped open watching. Cinder wielded power like a master. Her stances, the liquidous movements of her arms—everything was so natural, as if she’d been alive for many multiples of her actual age.
She jumped down into the crater, and the little girl whipped around. A smile transformed her features. “Isla!”
“Who was your teacher?” she asked in lieu of greeting. “Are they still living?”
Cinder regarded her strangely. “Teacher?” She looked to Maren, who had carefully made her way down one of the crater’s edges. Maren only shrugged a shoulder.
“Who taught you to wield this way?” Isla shook her head in disbelief. “I was told there weren’t any Starling masters left. How many can wield like you? You must have started training before you could walk! You must practice every moment.”
Cinder laughed. “No, not really.” She shrugged. “I’m just good at it, I guess.”
I guess?
Isla looked to Maren, who seemed wary. She stepped to the opposite side of the crater, away from Cinder, and Isla followed. “When she was two years old, I heard her laughing in a room all alone. I came in to find her playing with a perfect ball of sparks. One she had created herself.”
Isla’s brows came together. “But that . . . that shouldn’t be possible, should it? Someone who isn’t a ruler being that powerful?”
“It is certainly unusual. She is the best wielder on the isle.” She lowered her voice. “And she is the only reason any of us survived the fire that destroyed our homes.”
Cinder was laughing as she created an animal with a crown of antlers out of sparks. It hopped on its haunches, jumping around her in a circle. Isla understood now. “That’s why you’ve never let her leave,” she said. “You don’t want anyone else to know.”
Maren nodded. “She is more a sister to me than a cousin. Having any family relation is rare for Starlings. She is my responsibility. She is everything to me.”
Cinder blasted over, propelled by Starling energy shooting out of both of her palms. “Your turn, Isla! The crater is so plain and boring. Paint it with flowers!”
Maren gave her a look. “She is our ruler, Cinder. You do not command her.”
“It’s all right,” Isla said, smiling. She raised her hand, and flowers bloomed across the ground.
“Pretty! Make a beast next! Make one like I do, but out of plants and sticks and stuff!”
Her expression faltered, just a little. “I—I don’t think I can, Cinder.”
Cinder frowned. “Why not?”
“I’m only now learning to wield. I’m not a master. Not yet.” Cinder tilted her head, her dark hair falling across her forehead. “You can’t fully wield power?” A little crease appeared between her brows. “But . . . it’s so easy.”
“Cinder.”
“Especially for a ruler. Right?”
“Cinder.”