Just one more step.
She heard a great roar behind her.
Now. It had to be now.
Her hand reached for the sword. The moment she had it in her grasp, they could portal away. The dragon was coming. Her fingers brushed its hilt. It felt cold under her touch, before warming. Waking up. She turned around, to see where Grim was, to tell him that she got it.
Only to see a flood of fire filling the cave.
It was too late. She wouldn’t reach her starstick fast enough. Flames poured in to the brim, hurtling toward her. There was only time to turn her head. The sword sparkled prettily. She hadn’t even gotten the chance to fully grip it. Isla prepared to be burned alive.
Before the flames caught her, shadows filled the cave. They wrapped around her, shielding her. Saving her.
The fire cleared. The shadows fell away.
And Isla watched the sword vanish.
. . .
Grim had saved her. He had used his powers, knowing it would mean giving up the sword. And it had disappeared.
“Why did you do that?” Isla said. She had bathed and changed into one of her dresses. Grim had gotten changed in his own chambers and returned here, to her room in her castle.
She was grateful he had . . . but it didn’t make any sense.
Grim’s eyes locked on hers. “You think I would watch you die, for the sword? Did you think I would make any choice that wasn’t you?”
“Yes,” she said, incredulous. “You said so.”
He just looked at her. “Things changed.”
She realized then that she would have done the same. She would have chosen him.
“But your realm . . . you said you need it. For you, it’s the most important thing in the world.”
“My realm does need it,” he said. He traced his fingers down her temple and said, in the quietest of voices, “But it is not the most important thing in the world.”
She looked at him, really looked at him. Saw pain in his eyes, as he assessed her for any injuries, even though he had already done so before she had bathed. Saw patience as she scowled and told him again that she was fine.
She didn’t see regret.
“I touched it. For a moment, I touched it. Maybe I’ll be able to find it again now that it knows me.”
“Isla,” he said gently. “I don’t want to use the sword anymore.”
Her brows came together. “What? Why?”
“Its cost is too high,” he said thoughtfully.
It seemed Grim had changed his mind about the sword in the time between entering the cave and saving her. It didn’t make any sense.
“How are you going to save your realm now?” she asked. “How are you going to stop the dreks?”
Grim lifted a shoulder. “I’m going to use my power, the same as always. Use myself as a shield.” He grinned, and she knew it was solely for her benefit, to make light of a devastating situation. “I make a decently good one, wouldn’t you agree?”
The thought of him, shielding his entire realm from the dreks. Only his power against theirs . . .
“Will you still keep your promise?” she asked, attempting a smile back. “To help me at the Centennial?”
Grim grinned wider.
“Of course, Hearteater,” he said. “It’s going to be fun pretending not to know you. To introduce myself to you.”
He was right. No one could know they were allies. No one could know they had known each other for months. They would have to pretend to be strangers.
“To pretend I don’t know that you love chocolate, and touching your hair, and that you blush when I look at you for more than a few seconds. Or that you hate the cold and love to dance and you frown when you lie.” His words were so soft. So unlike him. He tucked her hair behind her ear. “You really do, by the way,” he said. “You should work on that before the Centennial.”
She blushed, because he had been looking at her for more than a few seconds. She felt tears stinging her eyes, because he knew her.
He really knew her. He’d been paying attention.
What a thing, to be known.
Isla’s voice was thick with emotion when she said, “And it will be fun pretending like I don’t know the shadows at your feet puddle when you’re happy. Or that, for some reason, you’ve had healers remove every one of your scars, except for the one I gave you. Or that you have a magnificent tub in your bathroom, and an even more magnificent ego.” She bit her lip. “And that, even though I hated you, really, really hated you . . . whenever I’m not with you, whenever I’m with anyone else, I feel hopelessly alone.”
He took her hand, and she said, “At the Centennial . . . we’re going to be strangers.”
“No,” he said. “We could never be just strangers.”
“So what are we then?” she asked. “If not strangers? If not . . . enemies?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “But I want to be the only person you glare at, Hearteater. I want to be the only person you insult. I want to be the only name you speak in your sleep.” His eyes darkened. “I want to be the only person who knows how to make you writhe against a wall.” He studied her. “You know what? I want everything. I want to be greedy and selfish with you. I want all your laughs. All your smiles too.” He frowned. “I would rather die than watch you smile at anyone that isn’t me.” Grim closed his eyes slowly. He looked almost pained.
Why pain? It didn’t make sense.
When he opened them, he said, “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“No,” she said. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
He had saved her life. She hadn’t ever trusted anyone this much, other than Celeste. For some reason, she wanted him to see all of her. She didn’t want to hide it any longer.
She swallowed. Her guardians would have her head if they knew she was about to tell the ruler of Nightshade her greatest secret. “I—” she said. “I’m—”
Grim watched her struggle to get the words out, and he grabbed her hand, to keep her from touching her hair. “Hearteater,” he said, the word so gentle now in his mouth. “I know.”
Her brows came together.
What did he think he knew? What did he think she was talking about?
“I know that the curses don’t apply to you,” he said. “I know that you have never wielded power.”
She stepped back. Time had been wounded; it wasn’t moving, it was dead—
Part of her wondered if she should run, or hide, or be afraid—
“I’ve known for a while.”
He’s known for a while. And he hadn’t tried to kill her. He hadn’t shared her secret. He’d continued to work with her. He knew how meaningless her life was, how weak she was, how in trouble her people were, and yet . . . he hadn’t used it to his advantage.
“Nightshades can sense curses. I didn’t realize it at first, but I couldn’t sense yours. Then, when the Wildlings were able to attack you in the forest, to try to get your heart . . .” Of course he would have questioned why Isla hadn’t fought back. Why she hadn’t used even a drop of power the entire time they were working together.
Tears fell freely now. “Grim . . . what—what is wrong with me?”