Page 59 of Grim and Oro (Lightlark)

DESIRE

As my emotions begin to rise, so do memories.

They’ve been long buried. Now, I remember bits and pieces of my childhood. I remember Elk, my Wildling teacher. I remember him speaking reverently about plants. I remember my mother speaking to her garden, like it could hear her.

The heart of Lightlark blooms every so often, and is always attached to a living thing, according to the few texts I’ve discovered about it. I’ve been to every forest on the island since then, it seems, without any success. It’s like the heart is hiding from me.

The Wildling doesn’t leave the palace tonight, and I’m already awake, so I fly to Sky Isle and search yet another field.

Lost in my mind, I happen upon a plant that stings.

Cursing it—and the Wildling—for invading my thoughts, I fly home.

Just an hour later, while the moon still shines brightly, the invitation arrives.

Moonling. Cleo’s test.

Of course, she would drag everyone out of their beds for her trial. When I arrive at the arena, it has been transformed into a cold, watery maze. The ice is smooth beneath my feet. Centuries ago, the chill would have pierced my bones. Now, it’s barely a nuisance. I found my fire.

The Wildling, on the other hand, is shaking on her platform next to me. I try hard not to notice. I try hard not to pay attention to the sound of her teeth chattering.

She, apparently, is paying attention to me .

“Giselroot, nasty thing,” she says, and I turn to her, startled. She’s looking at my arm. At the rash that’s been forming from the poisonous plant.

“You know what this is?” I’ve never been to the Wildling newland. I know Wildlings took some of their seeds with them, but I’m shocked she’s familiar with a plant that grows on Sky Isle.

“Of course. Plant with five points? Green spots? Yellow buds?”

I nod.

“Giselroot. Poisonous. Causes a rash and bad dreams.”

I blink, dumbstruck.

She forms the beginnings of a smile—and that smile . It latches onto something in me and pulls. Her smile is like a sunset. Something worth waiting for, and impossible to look away from. Something that makes the rest of the world feel small and insignificant.

“All right, the bad dreams might have just been a tactic by my guardians to keep me away from them.” I think about the golden roses my mother used to place on my and Egan’s pillows for the same purpose.

“You’ll want to treat that with an elixir of milk, tomato paste, honey, willow bark, pasted ash, and crushed mulberries. ”

Why is she helping me? I bite out the words, because they’re expected: “Thank you.” I assume that will be the end of it.

Then, those green eyes narrow at me. “Giselroot only grows deep in the woods, where the trees are close enough to touch. What in the realm were you doing in a place like that?”

I blink. She’s perceptive. Of course she is.

I’m saved from answering by the start of the demonstration. And then, by the cold water calming my heated skin.

Cleo’s demonstration is a test of desire. And it feels like I’ve been tested in it from the moment I stepped into this arena.

Tablets reflecting each of our greatest wants have been positioned at the end of the maze. If we’re honest with ourselves, we’ll feel the pull of the tablet. We’ll complete the demonstration quicker.

I feel the tether. And just like during the Starling demonstration, I have a fierce need to know what it says, so I can conquer it. Desires are just pretty distractions.

As I part the waters, swimming as fast as I can, knowing I need to win this, all I can think about is that smile.

I don’t want to think about it.

I don’t want to think about her .

So why can’t I stop?

This must be her Wildling enchantment at play, but I’ve never succumbed to it before. I’ve always been able to see the lies behind previous advances ... and, if I think about it, she hasn’t even really tried anything.

All she’s done is sing ... for herself. And ... look at me? And smile?

No. Nothing she has done is even that special. She is not special, I tell myself.

She is not captivating.

You do not want her.

I taste the bitterness, even as I dive around a corner, following the thread of desire, and swallow a mouthful of cold water.

I remember what Calder said, centuries before. He was right.

Aren’t those the greatest lies of all?

The ones we tell ourselves?

My desperation grows, my need to know . What is it that I want from her? What is it that I want at all? Once I know, I can change. I can bury down the desire. I can fix it so that I can focus clearly on saving the island.

A bell rings the moment I reach the end. I grab my tablet and press it firmly against myself. It isn’t until I’m fully warm, in the privacy of my room, that I allow myself to look at it.

A heavy weight settles in my chest. My greatest desire might as well be a death sentence.

It says: love .

I thought I learned long ago to stop asking questions I don’t want answers to. Sometimes when you know the truth, you start to wish you believed the lies. The truth is, more often than not, disappointing.

I should have destroyed that damn tablet before I read it. All it’s done is mess with my head.

I can’t want love. Not now. Not ever, if I’m to learn from Egan’s mistakes. Love for rulers is dangerous. How can I entrust anyone with that kind of power over me?

Falling in love would be the most selfish thing I could do. It would put the entire island at risk.

Especially right now, at the precipice of its ruin.

I am not my brother. I can’t afford to be.

I stop watching the Wildling each night. And, when the full moon arrives, and I’m sure she’s going to go to Moon Isle, I send Zed to track her instead.

He seems curious about the order but doesn’t say much.

Staying away from her was supposed to keep me from thinking about her, but I find myself staring at her balcony, fingers gripped on my stone ledge so tightly that part of it crumbles away, until Zed finally returns.

“Well?” I ask, barely looking at him, afraid of what he’ll see in my face. Worry? Curiosity? Hope for confirmation that she really is a wicked villain here to destroy me, so I can stop this strange obsession with her?

“She climbed the outside of a hundred-foot tower, with just her bare hands.”

Air shoots out of my nostrils. A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. Awe and anger . Anger, because she could have broken her neck.

Awe ... because she didn’t.

“And?” I say, forcing my voice to be casual.

“She disarmed some Moonling warriors. Stuffed them in a closet ... and then she ran.”

“Where?”

“Straight to the library.”

Ah. My guess from Sky Isle is confirmed. She is looking for libraries. But why?

I finally turn to him. The Skyling is leaning against my door, eyes focused on me. There is a hint of amusement on his face. As if he could possibly know why I asked him to trail her.

“I don’t have all night,” I snap. That only makes his smile grow.

“She must be a better escape artist than even me, because Cleo barged in, and she found ... nothing. The Wildling escaped, without a trace. I looked around the entire perimeter. No footsteps ... just ... nothing .”

My jaw tightens. I remember how Grim hid her from Cleo before. “Is it possible Grimshaw was with her?”

“Already thought of it,” he says. “I don’t think so. I didn’t hear him at all.” Gods knows he wouldn’t be able to keep his damned mouth shut for hours. “No one reported seeing him. And why not make her invisible the whole time, if he was? Why wait until the end?”

I’m not sure. I’m not sure of anything anymore.

“Thank you,” I say, dismissing him. I turn to the ledge and grip it tighter.

Secrets. She has so many of them.

Enough of following her around. Enough of having her followed. Enough of wondering about her secrets, and everyone else’s.

I set my own demonstration.