Page 56 of Grim and Oro (Lightlark)

I watch her assume a stance that looks natural, like she’s done it a thousand times before. Of course. Wildlings are warriors. She’s likely been trained since she was a child.

She isn’t using ability in her demonstration, and .

.. that’s different. Brave, I suppose. Defiant.

Many can expertly wield power. Few can expertly wield metal.

In a way, she’s demonstrating her superiority over some of the rulers sitting at the long table before her.

She doesn’t need her abilities to show her strength.

I have the strange and unsettling need to see every shred of that strength—every length she will go to prove herself.

Because she isn’t weak. Not like the foolish nobles think. Show them , I want to say, even though it’s madness.

Show me .

Show me what you’ve got .

The star is a flash of silver in my vision, and I don’t wince as it flies right toward my head.

And knocks the crown off it.

The corner of my lips turns into a smile she never sees.

The crowd gasps, some in horror, some in amazement. I hear one of the rulers behind me stand from the table, their chair scraping against the stone floor.

I watch as she pushes the fabric from her eyes. As those green eyes fill with pride.

As they fill with fire.

And it’s as if I can’t move. She has me rooted in place, staring into green eyes like they are a maze I wouldn’t mind getting lost in. Like they are woods I could wander for hours. Her eyes are gleaming, like a forest on fire, and I watch and watch, ready to be swept up in her blaze.

It’s been centuries since I’ve seen someone so determined. Someone whose fire hasn’t been extinguished by this cruel world.

She smirks.

And that contempt for my crown, it should make my blood boil, but it doesn’t. At least, not in the way she likely intended.

She’s strutting toward me, her stride full of confidence. She slowly bends down to lift my crown.

“You dropped this,” she whispers, so only I can hear it, and her voice slinks down my spine. Makes me swallow. I take it from her, hardly registering its weight in my hand. My skin is aflame, but not from anger. No, from something far more dangerous.

When it’s my turn to demonstrate, I don’t even think before I wield my power. I feel thawed. Memories and feelings from centuries before are rushing back all at once.

I feel melted down.

All this energy, this feeling, I know what’s going to happen when I place my hand against the table—

It turns gold. It ripples into glimmering, pure, unadulterated gold. Gasps echo through the room.

I’ve gilded, for the first time in centuries.

If the Wildling is unafraid to stand up in front of a room full of people who underestimate her, and take a risk, then who am I, as king, to hide?

The crowd rises to their feet. Some bow, some kneel and kiss the ground. They see it as a sign, I know. But it’s just a distraction. They don’t know that I’m dying.

I’m the winner of the demonstration. But I can’t help feeling like I’ve lost something.

Enya is waiting for me in my room when I return. An orange peel is discarded on my table. “You ... gilded,” she says.

“You really need to stop showing up like this.” I aim for jocular, but she’s not having it. Exhausted, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m dying,” I say flatly. “Might as well let all the secrets out.”

Her brows are high up her forehead. “Are you ... are you okay?”

No , I want to tell her. I feel like I’m losing my mind. First, it was Isla’s voice in my head, and now, every time I close my eyes, I see the smirk she made when she heard her throwing star hit my crown. She might as well have hit me right in the head, because I feel off-kilter. Different.

Sick.

“I’ll be fine.”

Enya doesn’t look convinced.

Zed walks in then. “Anything new?” I ask, grateful for a change of topic.

When his flying was ripped away because of the curses, he focused his energy on developing a network of spies across the island.

Including Moonlings.

Because of him, we know Moonling has been building ships for centuries. We know a sect of nobles has risen, and that Cleo’s control on them is fragile at best. Especially after her absence during the last Centennial.

“Moonling nobles are becoming bold. I fear they’re going to interfere with the Centennial.”

I frown. “How?”

“By taking matters into their own hands.”

“Wonderful.” It’s the last thing we need.

Nobles are typically invited to demonstrations. They were present at the duel and the banquet. They watched the Wildling’s star pierce my crown, just inches from my head.

It’s another reason I chose to gild, other than being caught up in the fire that is Isla Crown. I need to show strength. I’m king. My people are looking to me for assurances. We can’t afford an uprising right now. Especially from Moonling.

There’s only one thing to do. “I’m going to meet with Cleo.”

The Moonling ruler sweeps into the throne room, a train of sea-foam dragging behind her.

“To what do I owe the honor, King?” She always finds a way for her words to have bite.

Sometimes, I look at her and still see the instructor who banished me outdoors. I often think she still sees me as the Sunling teenager shaking in the snow.

That was centuries ago. So much has changed.

I get straight to the point. “Why didn’t you attend the last Centennial?”

Any hint of amusement drains from her face. Then, I see a flicker of something unexpected in her eyes. Pain. “I didn’t qualify,” she says.

Qualify? The rules are simple. No one who participates can—

“You have an heir,” I say, the words spilling out of me in surprise.

“ Had one.” She stands tall. Her tone is cold as a glacier. Still, I see now that something about her has changed.

My mouth tightens, understanding immediately.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, meaning it. She says nothing. “Why return?”

It’s no secret that Moonling’s curse is one of the milder ones. It only affects Moonlings foolish enough to go near the sea on a full moon.

She looks at me for a long moment. “The day the curses were cast, the oracle spoke a prophecy.”

Of course. We all know it. It’s why we’re here.

“Then ... she told another to me alone.”

I sit up. This is the first I’m hearing of it. The oracle is Moonling ... she lives on Cleo’s isle. It never occurred to me that the oracle might be loyal to her.

“What did she say?” I demand. Another prophecy could change everything. A surge of anger crests, cursing the fact that she hasn’t said anything sooner, but I wait for her to speak.

“Many things. One of which spoke about the significance of the half millennium.”

“ What did she say? ” I repeat, hearing the desperation creep into my tone.

“She said five hundred years later, everything would change. Again.”

“For better or worse?” I demand.

Cleo smiles ruefully. “Both.”

I grip the sides of my throne in frustration. “Are you here to break the curses, Cleo? Are you here to help us end this?”

“Of course I am,” she says, and I taste sweetness.

“Get your nobles under control, then,” I say. “They went rogue after your absence. We’ve had ... situations arise.”

Restlessness. Rebellion. Random killings.

“So I’ve heard.”

“Tell them to stand down. This Centennial is going to be difficult enough without them trying to interfere.”

She bows. “Of course, King,” she purrs. Then she walks out of the throne room.

“Calder,” I call out, and my friend emerges from the back hall, where he was waiting. “Keep an eye on the Moonling nobles, as much as you can.” I trust Zed’s spies ... but I trust my friend more.

He nods and strides out of the room.

Only then do I fold forward in pain, my skin stinging as I feel the blue mark spread.