Page 62 of Grim and Oro (Lightlark)

PAIRING

My friends are waiting for me in my room when I return.

I sigh. “Is this truly the best use of your time?” There are about a thousand things we each need to be doing right now, during the Centennial, even at the cusp of daylight.

Zed’s feet are on my comforter, so now I have to burn it. He nods before taking a sip of tea that Enya has clearly just brewed. “Yes, actually, this is exactly where we think we should all be. Don’t you agree, Enya?”

She’s glaring at me from a chair in the corner of my room, near the balcony doors.

What is it with women being mad at me today?

“Just get on with it,” I say, looking over at Calder, who smiles faintly, as if he would rather be anywhere else but here.

“You chose the Wildling as your partner,” Enya says.

I should have expected this. “I did.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think? I haven’t found the heart in decades, even with all of you helping me. She knows nature better than anyone on this island.”

“Does she?” Enya asks.

I narrow my eyes. “What are you implying?”

“Nothing. Just that she seems far more occupied with putting you in danger, than with helping you.”

I sigh. I also should have expected Enya wouldn’t like the hairpin trick, during Azul’s demonstration. Then again, if the target had been anyone but me, she’d have loved it.

Zed shrugs. “No, actually I did like when her throwing star almost killed the entire island and the thousands of people that live here.”

Calder sits back, chair groaning with his weight, as if he knows already that this is going to be both a long and unpleasant conversation.

I run a hand down my face. I want to go to bed and not talk about the Wildling with my friends ever, but that’s the worst thing about having friends. They don’t leave you alone, even when you want them to.

And that’s also the best thing about having friends.

“You don’t trust her, do you?” Enya says.

“Of course I don’t,” I say, meaning it. She might have been telling the truth about not divulging to Grim what I shared, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have her own plans against me.

“Good,” Enya says. “She’s most likely working with him , and—”

“She isn’t,” I interrupt, cutting her off.

My friends all turn to me.

“She isn’t working with Grim,” I repeat, more evenly this time.

“How do you know?” Calder asks, sitting straighter.

“I asked her about him.”

Zed looks impressed. “Really?”

Of course it’s a surprise. My friends know me better than anyone. As useful as my flair is, I don’t like using it on purpose often, by asking specific questions. I haven’t done it in centuries. It isn’t fair, I know, when no one else beyond this room knows about my ability.

I meet Enya’s eyes, as if reminding her of our conversation from before. It might not be fair, but measures must be taken for the good of the realms. I know that.

Calder chews his lip. “If she isn’t working with Grim, then why is he so interested in her? He’s never interested in anyone.”

It’s true. Isla is, of course, beautiful ... but Grimshaw, demon that he is, isn’t stupid. He wouldn’t spend a moment on her, unless he wanted something. We all seem to come to this same conclusion at once.

Zed frowns. “What could he want from the Wildling?”

I can think of a few things. For myself, anyway.

Some are wants that I have late at night, in dreams that have become more and more frequent—and that never satisfy this unexpected, burning desire. That end in me waking up aching and coated in sweat, gasping for air and cursing at the ceiling.

Some are simple.

Like just wanting the Wildling to be fucking reasonable.

We begin searching for the plants she indicated in the oasis—the ones that could be tied to the heart.

And it isn’t going well.

She likes to do things like threaten to stop working unless I answer her endless questions.

And I respond by doing something stupid, like flicking her crown (which she insists on wearing), leaving a dent that gives me a strange sense of satisfaction.

Which leads to her threatening me and calling me a wretch .

So pleasant. So charming, even after I had pants specially made for her, after noticing that the other ones she wore weren’t suitable for kneeling on the ground, or for the night chill.

Even after I had shirts made, after she tore her other one to ribbons , in some strange solution to marking the rows of plants she had searched.

That’s what I am to her. A wretch .

We’ve looked for days now, without success. The only thing Isla has managed to do is get on my last nerve.

I let out a sigh as I sink into my chair on our preferred floor of the castle, and Enya looks up from the orange she’s peeling. “The Wildling can’t be that bad,” she says.

“Whatever you’re thinking, she’s worse,” I reply.

She looks at me strangely but stays quiet.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.” She goes back to her peeling, uncharacteristically quiet.

Zed snorts. “You’ve faced rebellions, deadly creatures, uprisings, and curses, but one tiny Wildling is giving you trouble?”

I shoot him a look. I might tower over her, but there doesn’t seem to be anything tiny about the Wildling. Including her attitude.

“It is strange,” Calder says pensively, reaching to take a slice of orange Enya has offered. “I haven’t seen you this ... worked up in a while.”

“I’m not worked up,” I say tersely. Bitterness fills my mouth. I am not a liar. I do not make a habit of lying .

But clearly, I am now constantly lying to myself.

“Once again, I plead with you all to talk about anything but the Wildling,” I groan, rubbing my temples. It’s enough that I must think about her, and work with her, and dream of her. The last thing I want is her being a regular topic of conversation with my friends.

Enya gets to her feet at once, clasping her hands together. “It’s settled, then. We didn’t think you’d be in the mood, what with the island dying and all, but since you are clearly in need of a distraction ...”

Her words are light, but I know her well. The island’s fate weighs heavily on her—on all of us—but it won’t be figured out tonight.

I know exactly what she means. Knowing someone this long is its own form of telepathy. “I thought we weren’t doing it this decade.”

Calder blinks. “When did we say that?”

“The king said that,” Zed replies in a piercing tone. I scowl at him, and he just grins, knowing how I hate the title. “You know, we could take a page out of my realm’s values. Enact a democracy . Voting . Like civil beings.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Fine. A vote. Who would like to—” Enya, Zed, and Calder’s hands all shoot up.

“Children, all of you,” I mutter. “Five-hundred-year-old children.”

Enya grins as she passes me by, on her way out the door. “And you, Oro, are the whiniest among us.”

Fireball is a game we made as teenagers.

Every decade, fireflies fill a forest on Sun Isle.

They burn bright—and follow movement. The gleam they create in packs is so thick they block our vision when we run, so we made a contest of it.

Two against two. One person on offense, one on defense, with the goal of getting a glass orb across the other side of the forest.

One team member tries to distract the swarm of fireflies, while the other races across to the other side.

Distractions must be complex to get the fireflies’ attention, and over the centuries, techniques have gotten wilder.

Games have left their marks on this stretch of land, changing the landscape completely.

They have ended with the forest ablaze, flooded from nearby streams and full of tornadoes (one time when Zed was especially set on winning).

Mostly, though, games end in broken bones.

“Teams?” I ask, as we approach the forest. The fireflies fill every gap in the brush like living flames. Their speckled lights make a second, blazing night sky.

“This time, I get Calder,” Zed says. Back when he could fly, Zed was the undisputed champion of the game. He’s the self-declared “fastest Skyling in existence.” Now Calder’s the best partner, given his sheer size and ability to whip water around him in waves, which the fireflies seem to like.

“I guess we’re stuck together,” Enya says, leaning against me.

I smile for the first time in a while. “No, I guess you’re stuck with me .” According to my friends I’m the worst partner, because I’m the only one who refuses to cheat.

I remember what Enya said about breaking the rules. About loosening my morality.

I whisper something into Enya’s ear, and watch a slow grin overtake her freckled face. She clicks her tongue. “I knew there was corruption in you yet.”

Zed and I take our marks, on opposite ends of our clearing. The orb sits in the middle. The first to capture it, then get it to the other side, wins.

The fireflies have already started circling, curious. Enya and Calder face each other down, ready to provide distraction. Ready to lead the bright creatures toward the other side, and to block their opponents from making it across with the orb.

Zed and I lock eyes.

The orb is thick, reinforced glass. There’s a glittering burst of energy inside, spiraling. Circling.

There’s a shattering sound as the Starling spark in the center of the orb goes off, breaking through the top of it, launching into the sky, marking the start of the game.

I shoot forward, flying. Zed glares at me, as he’s forced to run. I reach the orb first, my hand curling into the hole the sparks made, making it easier to carry.

I turn—and Calder’s right there. Ready to summon the fireflies, to keep me from getting to the other side. To make it easy for Zed to steal the orb.

His hulking arm reaches out, toward the nearest stream. His fingers flex. His veins go taut.

He frowns.

“Good luck summoning air,” Enya says, the hiss of steam reaching us. We heated the water until it boiled and evaporated.

Calder opens his mouth. Closes it. Frowns. It almost makes me feel bad.