“Heart,” he said gently. “If I wanted to take the island by force, I could. Right now. Destroy all of it and everyone, in a matter of seconds. The curses are over.” She could feel the power of him, especially now. Every ounce of it, so much waiting to be unleashed.
His eyes dipped to her neck, where her necklace had become visible, where her fingers had instinctively gone, and she ripped her hand away. “Take this off,” she said.
A wicked grin spread across Grim’s face. “You remember, do you? No . . . No,” he said. He prowled closer. Closer. “If you did, you would know I cannot.”
Talking to him wasn’t working. She could see in the set of his mouth, his eyes, he was intent on invading Lightlark. She shook her head. “Grim, please. If you care about me at all, please don’t do this.”
Grim smiled softly then. He reached out. “Heart,” he said, his voice as gentle as she had ever heard it. His fingers traced her cheek, from her temple to her lips. She was trembling—why was she trembling? “It’s because I care about you that I’m doing this.”
And then he was gone.
. . .
Isla knew what she needed to do.
Remlar was having tea in his hive. A tree grew beneath her, taking her to its highest floor, and she walked through the gaps, right to his makeshift throne. Vines were crawling in her wake, mixing with shadows.
“You look determined, Wildling,” he said, putting his cup down. “You look ruinous.”
“I want you to train me in something wrong. Something treacherous.”
“Oh?”
“I want you to teach me how to cut off someone’s power through a love bond. At least, for a few moments.”
Remlar’s lips crawled into a wide, wide smile. “It would be my pleasure,” he said.
Grim had the Wildlings. Three days remained. She convened everyone in the war room once more.
“I summoned him,” she said, and Oro turned to look at her. His expression was unreadable.
Zed stood roughly. “You what?”
“I thought I could reason with him,” she said. She knew it was risky. Stupid. Still, at any moment he could have portaled into her room and taken her. He hadn’t, which meant Grim wanted her to remember everything. He wanted her to go back to him willingly.
And he needed something from Lightlark, beyond her. She just needed to figure out what it was.
Zed’s look was incredulous. “That . . . that’s treason,” he said. “You summoned our enemy to the Mainland castle. The person who is hell-bent on destroying all of us.” He looked to Oro, whose expression had hardened.
“Let her speak,” he said, though his voice did not have any hint of the warmth it had developed over the last few months with her.
“When I was with him, I could feel . . . I could feel that he still loves me.”
Azul leaned forward. “You felt the connection?”
She nodded.
Zed still glared at her. He wouldn’t ever trust her, she knew that. If she were him, she wouldn’t trust her either.
Still, he was wrong about her. She loved Oro. She was loyal to Lightlark. She closed her eyes and said, “I know how we can win.” They waited. No one moved an inch. “Grim is too powerful. It makes him nearly impossible to defeat. Especially with the sword. But he loves me—I can use the link and take away his powers long enough for us to overpower him.”
Silence.
Enya was the first to speak. “Have you ever tried doing that before?” Isla shook her head. Not that she remembered. Yet. “Have you ever tried . . . even accessing his powers?” Again, she shook her head. Not that she remembered.
Yet.
She turned to face Oro. “But I’ve done it before . . . Accessed powers through the link.”
It wasn’t easy to do. Especially for someone like her, who had only recently wielded power at all.
“It requires an intense . . . connection,” Oro said. He wasn’t looking at her. He shook his head. “It would be too big of a risk. If you couldn’t steal his powers immediately, he would know what you were trying to do and would portal away.”
Calder said, “Oro. This could change everything. It could change the entire tide of the war. Though . . . we would be sentencing all Nightshades to death.”
“Maybe not,” Enya said. “If Isla took all his power, it would spare his people, wouldn’t it?”
“It should in theory, though something like that has never been tested through a love bond,” Azul said. “This is a very . . . unique circumstance.” Azul studied her. “You would be willing to kill him?”
The words hit Isla like a stone in the chest, even though she had been the one to suggest it.
Kill Grim.
The thought sounded poisonous in her mind, but she remembered her vision in front of the vault. If she didn’t stop Grim, he would kill innocent people. He would kill her. Oro had been right. Grim’s words in her room had confirmed it. It’s because I care about you that I’m doing this.
Grim was really going to war because of her. She didn’t know his main reason for destroying Lightlark, but his purpose was clear. Which meant every death would be her fault.
He had stolen her people. Her memories. Her happiness, the last few months.
She wouldn’t allow him to steal anything else.
“Yes,” she said.
Oro met her eyes. She expected to see relief, but all she sensed was concern. He reached across the table for her. She watched Azul track the exchange. By now, he must have known. Oro didn’t seem to care that everyone else was watching as he said, “You don’t have to do this.”
Isla remembered Enya’s words. She saw her meaning clearly now. Oro was putting her own well-being above that of the entire island.
She wouldn’t let him. “Yes,” she finally said. “I do.”
She was going to kill Grim.
Remlar taught her the basics of taking power. It required a complete hold. Pinching the thread between her and Grim between her fingers and being strong enough to stop the flow of power within him.
“It will be painful,” he warned. “And difficult. Grimshaw is a most talented wielder,” he admitted. Isla wondered if Remlar had ever met him.
They had almost run out of time. Only two days remained. Grim clearly needed something on Lightlark. If she could remember what it was, they could shift their plan to make sure he didn’t get it.
She just needed a shortcut.
“I need you to help me speed it all up,” she told Remlar. He had warned her it would be dangerous to force the memories. It could break her, mentally. At this point, she didn’t care.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “Even knowing the risks?”
“I’m sure.”
Remlar began making tea.
Isla’s mind was a battleground.
She didn’t want to remember—she had to remember. She didn’t want to feel anything but disgust at the Nightshade—she had felt everything with the Nightshade.
The more she saw, the more she knew . . .
“What is the opposite of night, Wildling?” Remlar said, as he poured the tea into her mug.
Isla frowned. She was convinced Remlar just liked to hear himself talk. “Day?”