Page 58 of Grim and Oro (Lightlark)

That voice . It’s a curse. It’s a gift. I need to know how her Wildling temptress abilities have pierced me, when I can’t seem to sense any other powers on her. She’s cloaking them ... but how?

Everything about her is a mystery.

She finally reaches Sky Isle and promptly crashes into a Skyling. I frown. She’s far too clumsy, for how good she is at fighting. Does she not look in front of her? Or does she get lost in her mind sometimes, the way I do?

I watch, entranced, wondering if the Skyling will detect she’s a fraud ... and what she’ll do if he does.

What I’ll do if he does ...

But he doesn’t. And, as she steps across the precarious bridge, I don’t miss the uneven rise and fall of her chest.

She’s afraid. Just like I was, the first time I crossed one.

Still, she takes each step. Her spine is straight. Her chin is high. No one would even know she felt fear unless they knew her. She masks it well. Pride surges within me when she finishes crossing, and I bury it down, scowling. She’s lying to me . I am not proud of her . I don’t even know her.

That becomes abundantly clear as I follow her, careful to stay out of view until she enters the Skyling castle. Why the castle? I contemplate landing and following on foot, but my presence would attract too much attention. I wait. Not long after, she strolls out of the front door, angry.

I can see it in the set of her shoulders.

In the curl of her fingers. She’s upset.

She must have been looking for something, I reason, and she didn’t find it.

I rack my mind for what could possibly be hidden in the Skyling castle.

Their realm is a democracy. Everything, including knowledge, is shared freely . ..

Is that where she was? A library?

I follow her back to the Mainland castle, and this time, I do land. This is my keep; my presence here is expected. Still, I wait a few minutes before following her inside.

It doesn’t take me long to find her. I know the way to her room, but even if I didn’t, her steps are uncharacteristically loud. She’s frustrated. It’s seeped into her movements. She’s still disguised. She’s putting herself at risk. Anyone would see those eyes and recognize her. Wouldn’t they?

Or do they not dream of them like I do?

I shouldn’t care if she gets caught. She should be caught, if she wants to be this damned reckless.

I quicken my pace. Maybe the sound of my steps will force her to realize she’s being too loud. Then I see a flash of white turn the corner, right ahead of me.

Cleo . She hasn’t seen me—

But she’s seen Isla.

Dread begins to turn in my stomach. Again, I shouldn’t care, but I think about Juniper’s words. Many people want the Wildling dead.

It’s against the rules to kill a ruler before the fiftieth day ... but I don’t put it past Cleo to break them.

I walk faster.

I can differentiate their steps. Isla’s begin to hurry.

She senses Cleo on her trail. Good , I think, conflicted pride filling me again.

Cleo speeds up too. She turns the corner, right after Isla, right into a small room, cornering her, and I start to go through scenarios in my mind, wondering how this doesn’t end badly—

But then, the Moonling pauses. She takes a few steps inside, and I wait to hear their voices, wait to see if I’ll interfere.

Quiet. A moment passes. Two.

Cleo exits the room, frowning. As if she didn’t see Isla.

Impossible. The room is small. There’s nowhere to hide.

Unless—

When Cleo is far down the hall in the opposite direction, I turn the corridor and take quiet steps closer to the room. That’s when I hear voices. Of course.

Grim . With her. Again.

Flames coat my skin. He turned her invisible. He saved her. Again. Any doubt that they are working together withers away.

I try to listen but can only hear fragments of their whispered words. And ... none of them seem to confirm they’re working together. If anything, she seems to want nothing to do with him. I smile, despite myself.

This doesn’t mean they aren’t allied. I try to remind myself of that. I take a step closer.

Before I can hear more, she races away, not seeing me as she bolts in the opposite direction.

“I didn’t take you for someone who listens in on conversations,” Grim drawls, from the other side of the wall.

I step into the room, only to find him leaning against one of the stone pillars, not a care in the world.

“Is that what that was? A conversation? It sounded one-sided.”

Grim just tilts his head at me. “She’ll come to her senses. In time.” He believes it.

Before I can say anything else, he slips through the walls, leaving me alone to wonder why the thought of that makes me want to kill him all the more.

It doesn’t take long for Grimshaw to prove what a bastard he is.

It happens during the Wildling’s demonstration, which he publicly refuses to participate in. He says he has nothing productive to offer the people of Lightlark.

It’s true.

The Wildling is angry. Good . I’m glad she sees the Nightshade for what he is. Villainous. Selfish.

Then it’s her turn. And, like the gods are laughing at me for my strange fascination with her, she turns to face me. “Would you make me a fire?” she says. Her request fills me with irritation.

Stop talking to me . Your voice is already in my head far too much.

Stop asking things of me , I want to say. I’m afraid of what I’ll give you.

I create a column of fire in the center of the demonstration ring, just so she’ll stop looking at me. Then, she does the unthinkable.

She puts her entire arm into the fire.

My blood roars with the need to put it out. I barely resist the urge to pull her from the flames. But I don’t. She knows what she’s doing.

I hope she knows what she’s doing.

She doesn’t cry. She doesn’t scream, though I can see the skin melting from her bones .

She is strong. She is brave.

She is an idiot .

Cries of horror fill the arena, until she finally removes her arm—and I finally loosen a breath. Then, my jaw nearly drops, seeing the ribbons of skin, the red, the visible bone .

Mouth tightening, not willing to make even a whisper of agony, she produces a vial of thick liquid. She takes the top off with her teeth, then pours it over her skin, and I watch it regrow, quicker than any Moonling healing I’ve ever witnessed.

I’m filled with awe and fury. A familiar mix, when it comes to her.

It’s a potent, dramatic demonstration. She chose this. The Wildling clearly wants the rest of the island to see her realm is of value.

But she herself was the price.

She must have a lot to lose. She must be willing to do a lot to win. She has secrets. I know she does.

And I’m going to make it my personal mission to uncover them.