Page 28 of Grim and Oro (Lightlark)

SUMMER

I am greedy, I am selfish. I am despicable. While Isla is breathing softly against my neck, tucked into my side, her leg draped over me, while she sleeps more soundly than I have seen her sleep in months , I tell myself I’m going to tell her the truth.

I’m going to tell her my plan. I’m going to tell her about the sword. About how I have no intention of going to the Centennial.

I go over it in my mind, again and again. Each scenario has the same ending.

Never seeing her again.

When her green eyes blink open hours later—when they widen, like she thought for a moment that this was all a dream, when they crease when she smiles, when she buries her face against my throat, embarrassment and happiness blooming from her, I find that I can’t.

I can’t .

Not only do I not tell her ... I allow us both to continue with the plan. When Isla tells me she doesn’t have training today, that her guardians are visiting a nearby village, and she suggests we find what I need for my part of our plan together ... I agree.

That’s how we end up in the middle of a Starling market, looking for sparks to distract the dragon.

Isla pulls me forward by the hand as she expertly weaves through the stalls. Some sell swords. Others burnt sugar. A few sell tiny orbs of energy, barely more than party tricks. No, we’ll need something much stronger.

“You’ve been here before,” I say, and Isla turns around. Something curious flashes through her emotions—guilt?—but it’s gone in a moment. She nods. “It’s one of my favorite places.”

I can’t imagine why, but I try. The silver gleam I remember from the Starlings on Lightlark is muted here. Diluted. Wasted away.

I’m struck by how young everyone is. Their curse was the cruelest of all. Every single one of them, under a quarter century old.

For a moment, I feel a shred of guilt. Perhaps we should have helped, over the centuries ... I look around, frowning at the state of their newland. Broken buildings. Faded fabrics. The result of a world without experience.

I expect everyone to be afraid. Every single person here is just a few years away from their certain death ...

But all I feel is lightness. Happiness. As if the surety of their fate has made them all determined to enjoy the few days they have.

It reminds me of Isla.

She lives every single day to its brim. She feels fully. She fights fiercely. Her soul is a shining, unrelenting summer.

I have been stuck in darkness for so much of my life. I have spent centuries trapped in winter. She is a hand, pulling me out of it, into a new season. Into an infinite summer.

Just as she is pulling me now, through the market.

And I—I can’t help it.

I slow down. She turns, frowning in confusion, opens her mouth—

And gasps into mine as I press her into a wall. I’ve portaled us to an abandoned part of the shops, far away from wandering eyes.

The moment my lips crash against hers, she groans, and our feelings are like paint, melting together. Making a new color.

“I thought—I thought we needed the sparks, for the dragon, for the distraction,” she says, pulling back. She’s breathing so quickly, chest meeting mine.

“The sparks can wait,” I say, and then I kiss her again.

The world can wait.

The world can stop turning if it wants to, it can fucking end, and nothing would rip me from her arms as her hands lock behind my head and she pulls me down harder against her lips.

My tongue strokes hers, flicking, and her hands fist in my hair, pulling, sending sparks raking down my spine.

My own hands slowly trace down her sides, until they settle on her waist. She doesn’t like that.

Her hands are on mine, pulling them down to grip her ass, and I laugh darkly against her mouth.

Then, I curl my hands beneath her, haul her up the wall, to my height, and kiss her properly.

I kiss her like I’m starving, like I’m ravenous, like I’m dying, and she’s the only cure. Because that’s how it feels. She tastes so good . I can’t get enough. I kiss her until her lips are swollen and red, and only then do I shift my focus down her jaw.

She laughs as I reach her neck. Her voice is breathy. “For someone who doesn’t like to kiss, you do it a lot.”

“I like to kiss you ,” I say against her pulse. I scrape my teeth against her throat and feel her shiver beneath me. Feel her heart race.

You .

Only you .

My hands pull her hips against mine, and I feel the flash of pleasure. Feel her arms wrap around my neck as she moves herself against me, as she gasps into my ear.

“ Grim ,” she says, and it’s almost my undoing. The word is pleading. She wants me here, in this alley. She wants me here, against this wall.

She has no idea how much I want that.

But the truth comes bubbling to the surface. The truth I’m keeping from her. There are so many lies between us ... too many.

So, I set her down, slowly, even as she protests. As she blinks up at me, again unfulfilled, lips swollen from when I bit them.

“You know what I want,” she says, confused. Hurt, even. “Why won’t you give it to me?”

You have no idea how badly I want to give it to you , I think.

She looks so disappointed, that I have the need to make her a promise. I lean against the wall, caging her in, watching her head tilt back so she can meet my eyes. I feel my arms trembling with barely leashed desire.

“ Isla ,” I say, feeling her emotions spike at the sound of her name on my lips.

“One day soon, I will give it to you. I will give it to you all night, in every way you can think of, because trust me— trust me —I have thought about it enough for the both of us. I am going to give you everything you want, until your voice is hoarse, until it’s hard to walk, until we are both sore and spent. ”

She swallows, and I almost do—I almost do all of it right here, out in the open, the way I can feel she wants me to.

Instead, I take her hand and say, “Let’s find the sparks.”

There must be another way.

Over the next few days, I look into every option, every power we have access to. I go to the libraries I haven’t found use for in centuries and pore over the volumes there.

As I enter one such library used for housing rare, early-realm volumes, I nearly run into Astria, who looks shocked to see me. Her arms are laden with a half dozen dusty tomes. She tightens her grip on them as she hurries down the hall. It seems my general is a voracious reader.

I rack my brain for alternate solutions but come up empty. The sword was specifically made to be a safeguard, and without Isla’s flair—without her to unlock it and remove the curse—I can’t banish the dreks.

Only someone from my line can wield the sword; it’s not enough for Isla to simply claim it.

Not unless—

No .

It’s impossible. Only a love bond could save us, but, as much as I care for her, as much as she has become my heart, the strength needed for her to access my abilities, for me to give them to her ...

It’s more than my cold heart could give.

For once, I hate myself for not feeling. If only I could ... if only I hadn’t hardened myself against emotion so long ago ... if only I was capable of something as rare as love ... perhaps I could save my people and keep her.

So the choice is clear.

Either I and my entire realm die—

Or she does.

My father’s voice is in my mind, always reminding me of my duty, warning me against feeling.

He was right. Feelings are the most dangerous things we rulers could ever fall victim to.

I can’t send thousands of my people to death, I can’t be the end of my line because I’ve lost control of my emotions.

I can’t have Laila’s death go to waste. I can’t have all the pain be for nothing.

So, I don’t call off the plan.

I take a bath that runs cold too quickly. When I’m done, I growl and turn to the mirror, forcing myself to look at the scar she gave me, the proof that she tried to kill me.

I trace my fingers over the marking, and I know I should feel fury. Disgust.

But all I feel is longing.

I have removed all my scars, through meticulous healing, as if I could rid myself of any weaknesses and failures ... except for this one. At first, it was a reminder of my hatred of her.

Now, it’s just a reminder of her .

I should heal it, after this.

I know I never will.

And even if I did ... it wouldn’t matter. For she has scarred my very soul.

On the day of the plan, I wake up with unnerving calm. My eyes blink open and I feel—nothing.

Just like before.

It’s almost a relief. Like my soul has remembered it is a ruler and shouldn’t feel anything. Like I have finally remembered myself .

Yes. It is a relief.

I walk through the world like a ghost. I stare at myself in the mirror as I put on my armor, piece by piece, a distant roaring overtaking my senses.

I am no one. I do not matter. All that matters is my duty, and my realm. I think only about the last few centuries, before the last several months, before her . I think of all the years fighting the dreks. The thousands of warriors lost. The innocents who have perished.

I know what I must do. It’s what I’ve been trained for. I don’t matter. She does not matter.

It’s in that state that I meet Isla at the cave.

“Are you ready?” I ask, my tone distant. Matter-of-fact.

“Yes. Are you?”

At that, a dull instinct tells me to call this off. To keep her far away from that sword.

But then my father’s voice is in my head. Love kills kingdoms . My realm is almost at its ruin. I will do what is expected of me.

I nod.

She nods back. And then she’s gone, off to wait near the cave’s entrance.

It all feels distant, like it’s happening to someone else, just like portaling to the front of a battlefield. Just like unsheathing my blade. Just like uncurling my shadows.

Turning off my emotions and just doing . Just killing. Just being a cold mask against the anguish and terror and pain. Just performing a duty.

I drop the orb in my hand, and the sparks erupt immediately, shooting in a storm of stars, the enchantment from the Starling market.

Dragons are attracted to shining objects. I practically paint the sky silver, for just a moment.

And the creature comes shooting out of the cave.

Now it’s too late , that distant voice in the back corner of my mind says.

Too late to call Isla back.

Too late, as the beast bounds toward me. I turn and run, just like leading an enemy away. Just like I have countless times, in a diversion. Just like I have run toward danger. My mind is empty. Focused.

It is so easy, feeling nothing.

Far away, I hear the traps setting off, over and over, the ones Isla meticulously practiced.

Isla .

Her name in my thoughts produces an arrow of emotion, spiraling through my wall. She’s getting closer to the sword. Closer to her ruin. Closer to her death ...

I quickly snuff the thoughts and feelings out.

A loud crack reaches me. That’s ... new. It must be a trap we didn’t see before. One we didn’t account for.

I look over my shoulder, telling myself I only care about the sword being claimed. The curse being broken.

That’s when I see the dragon isn’t chasing me anymore.

No. It’s hurtling back toward the cave.

Toward her .

And I run. I run faster than I did when I was being chased, I run toward her , still telling myself that I am simply ensuring the plan works, simply playing my role.

She’s almost there. She’s right in front of the pile of treasure, leaning toward the sword, oblivious to the dragon that has reached the entrance.

The dragon roars.

Fire follows.

No.

No .

No wall in this world could keep my emotions in check, at seeing the fire race to engulf her. No wall could stand between me and her, could remain steady between our souls.

I am lying to myself if I think I could ever live without her.

Time seems to stand still, as I watch flames fill the cave. As I watch them inch toward my heart. My life. The only person who has ever seen who I am beyond the blood on my hands, the only person who has dragged me back from the abyss, the only person I would want by my side until the end of time.

The walls around my emotions turn to ash as my feelings for her overtake them.

My shadows lash out, suffocating the flames, shielding her, protecting her, choosing her.

And, as it senses my powers, the sword vanishes.

I don’t care. I don’t even look for it. I just look at her, standing there. We stare at each other, eyes wide, as the dragon bellows, and I portal us away.

I leave her in her room without another word. I need to clear my head. I need to see if I might feel any ounce of regret.

But I don’t.

What have I done?

Exactly what I knew I would.

Exactly what I thought I was strong enough to avoid.

I chose her. Over my people. Over everything I have been taught to care about. Over myself.

I think I chose her a long time ago. It wasn’t until now that I actually admitted it. My realm will die. I will die.

But she won’t.

And the world will be better for it.

I feel shame. I feel fear.

But not once do I feel regret.

No. I should, but I don’t. She deserves better than me. I don’t really care. Because when I look at her, I think—

I will choose you over the world, every single time.

Call me a villain.

Call me a monster.

Just let me call you mine .