He wanted to open the portal to save her life.
Oro hesitated, sword still in his hand. If he killed Grim, she would die too.
“Do it,” Isla said, because she was willing to die if it would save everyone else. Even if most of them still hated her and thought she was a blight on the world. The same way Oro had said he would give her his power, she would give him hers, in case the rebels were wrong.
Oro looked at her, and she saw fear and fury and disappointment—disappointment in himself for not being strong enough to make the right choice for his people. Enya was right. Isla had made him weak.
“I can’t,” he said, the words so soft.
“Kill him,” she said, her voice getting hysterical. “He’s going to kill innocent people. I told you about the vision. He’s going to kill children. He’s going to kill me.”
Grim looked at her. “Heart . . .” he said, so gently. “What do you mean?”
She saw flashes of her vision again. The darkness, eating everything. Skin sliding from bone. Bone reduced to ash. Death, everywhere, and Grim standing in the middle of it—
It looked familiar now.
Isla started sputtering. “The village. The people. Their skin melting from them, the shadows. Then the—the darkness came into me—”
No.
The world went silent.
The vision was not a look at the future. Not an example of the lengths Grim would go to get her.
It was a memory.
And Grim wasn’t the one who had summoned those shadows, wasn’t the one who had killed those hundreds of innocent people.
“It was me,” she said. “It was me.”
She saw herself, returning to the place where it had all happened, where she had offered all her power she didn’t know she had to save Grim. She saw the village, on the outskirts of the scar. Charred. There were only shapes of people—of children—where they once stood.
She saw herself collapsing on the ground, sobbing. Screaming, “I did this. I did this.”
Oro was in front of her now, hands pressed against her face, taking her out of the memory. “You are not a monster.” Was that what she had been saying over and over? “You are not defined by one mistake.”
But it was not one mistake.
Isla had used emotions to wield her power multiple times. Recklessly. Even after Oro had warned her, she hadn’t been able to help herself, she had done it again and again.
She was not to be trusted. She was reckless, dangerous, a monster.
Enya was right. Oro deserved so much better.
“Get away from me,” she screamed. She tried to step away, but Oro took her hand. “Let me go.”
She understood now how it was even a possibility that she might kill Oro. Just by proximity to her, he was in danger.
She had no control of her emotions. Of her powers.
She would kill him. One day, she would be overcome with emotion, she would lose control yet again, and she would kill him. She saw it so clearly now.
“Let. Me. Go,” she bellowed, her voice thick, tears falling into her mouth.
She tried to wrestle herself away, but Oro didn’t budge. He didn’t understand; he didn’t know how much of a danger she was to him—
Grim’s voice seemed to rumble the world as he said, “Let go of my wife.”
There it was. The final missing piece.
BOUND
That word, wife, unlocked a door in her mind that had been stubbornly jammed.
She saw it. Hands joined together, before an altar. Then, against a bed frame.
She saw months of suffering with guilt for having killed so many innocent people. She saw herself begging Grim to take the memory of what she had done away. She saw him refusing.
Memories fluttered, until they snagged on one last moment. She saw herself wearing her Centennial dress. She watched Grim take a necklace out of his pocket and present it to her. One with the biggest black diamond she had ever seen. “In Nightshade, instead of rings, we give necklaces,” he said. “I should have given this to you before. It’s a sign of our commitment. Once I put it on, it is on forever. Only with your death will it be released.”
She saw herself smiling and telling him to put it on her. She saw her move her hair, clearing the way.
Instead of clasping it forever, she saw him slip it back into his pocket.
She heard him say, “Please, heart, forgive me for this.”
She watched understanding come over her face as she said, “Grim, no—”
But it was done.
She watched him take her memories away, return her starstick, and send her back to the Wildling realm.
Isla knew what happened next.
TRUTH
Oro let her go. Out of shock, or disgust, or because he was finally listening to her, she didn’t know.
You will kill one of them. That much is certain.
Screams sounded from the battleground; power rippled through the air. Out of nowhere, more dreks appeared, screeching. Arrows shot through the sky, and the creatures fell, but there were too many. They picked Skylings off, one by one. She watched helplessly as more Skylings dropped from the sky, limp or in pieces.
Death, so much useless death. Pain and blood painted the island. It made her remember what she had done. What she had done—
Her voice was trembling. “If I go with you, will you leave? Will you stop the attack?” she asked.
“No,” Oro said, the word a plea.
Grim’s answer was immediate. “Yes.”
He held his hand out, the same way he had countless times before, and the echoes of it reverberated in her mind.
Isla reached for Grim’s hand. She was a monster, just like him. She needed to get away from Oro and this island. She looked at Lynx, and Grim said, “Don’t worry, he’s coming too.” She watched her leopard vanish.
“Don’t,” Oro said. His voice broke on the word. She knew he wouldn’t let her go. He didn’t understand; he didn’t know about the prophecy. He would think there was another way.
So before Grim could portal them to Nightshade, she turned and said, “I love you, Oro.” She closed her eyes tightly. Felt tears sweep down. She took Grim’s hand. “But I love him too.”
And, because of his flair, he knew it was true.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I want to start by thanking you, the reader, for supporting this series. When I wrote Lightlark, I never could have imagined that people around the world would love this story and these characters as much as I do. Your excitement for this book got me through every deadline. I am endlessly grateful for you. Thank you.
I have many people to thank for helping to get Nightbane out into the world. Thank you to Anne Hetzel, my editor, for believing in Lightlark before everything, for your editorial guidance, and for your infinite championing of me and this series. Thank you to Andrew Smith, who saw Lightlark’s potential, and has made so much possible. Thank you to my literary agent, Jodi Reamer, who read too many versions of this book, and was my guiding star during this entire process. I am so grateful to have you in my corner.
To everyone at Abrams, including Megan Carlson, Micah Fleming, Maggie Moore, Marie Oishi, Ashley Albert, Abby Pickus, and Angelica Busanet, for all your hard work on this series. To Chelsea Hunter and Natalie Sousa, for designing the book covers of my dreams. To Kim Lauber and Hallie Patterson, for everything you have done for me and Lightlark—it is truly a joy to work with both of you.