Page 63 of Grim and Oro (Lightlark)

But then Zed sends a swarm of fireflies right at my face. I startle back, stumbling a step as they stick to my skin, surrounding me like a cloud, shining as brightly as a flame.

“Zed,” I growl, spitting fireflies out of my mouth.

I can’t see him through the blinding light, but I can hear him say, “Sorry, I was under the assumption we were in a rules-free game.” I feel the orb being wrenched free from my grip.

The fireflies are relentless, clinging, circling. They’ll only move on toward a greater source of movement. All I can do is hope my partner has a plan.

I hear Zed’s steps, getting close to the edge of his side of the clearing. I can hear Calder cheering him on. Then, all I hear are the fireflies as they swarm my head. I force myself to be still, not wanting to attract more, feeling them crawl—

They scatter at once, racing through the air—toward Enya, who now is sporting her fire-wings. Her wings move fast as lightning, like a dragonfly. She floats a few inches off the ground, enraging Zed, who would give anything to fly again.

She launches toward him—and they both roll across the clearing, tangled in a mess of limbs and flames.

Finally, she tugs the orb from his grip, and leaps into the sky.

He leaps too—but barely misses getting it back, before falling to the ground again.

She remains floating, just a few feet above him.

I haven’t seen her hold her wings for this long. It’s impressive.

She just smiles sweetly down at Zed, through the cloud of racing fireflies that’s formed around her and her wings. “Here.” She holds it up just far enough that he can’t jump.

I expected a curse or vile gesture, but instead, Zed grins. Then, in a flash, he summons wind around her, moving so quickly, it sucks the air away, and her flames go out. She chokes. Her wings vanish.

She falls to the ground, with a sickening crack.

Zed just scoops the orb out of the crook of her arm, now unnaturally twisted to the side, and runs across the clearing.

I run to Enya. Predictably, she sits up, holds her broken arm against her chest, and says, “What are you doing? Go! You can still stop him!” When I don’t, she growls, then gets to her feet—before collapsing. She winces. “Yeah, might have broken my leg too.”

Cheers erupt as Zed makes it to the other end. He shouts his win to the sky, to the stars, to the night, to everyone in a mile radius.

Calder walks over slowly, arms folded across his chest, eyes still narrowed in disappointment.

Still upset over the move we pulled. He looks from me, to Enya, gaze shifting from her leg—definitely broken—and her arm, twisted to an angle that is almost impressively gruesome.

“If only we had water to heal her with,” he says, voice flat.

Enya and I look at each other.

Then we burst into laughter. She winces, the movement jostling her arm, then laughs again. Zed chuckles too, as he sinks to his knees at her side, removing his shirt in one smooth motion, then using it to expertly tie a sling.

Finally, Calder joins us.

The joy from our fireball game lasts through the night—then withers in the morning, when I’m called into my first meeting.

Everyone needs something from me. It’s been this way since I became king, but during the Centennial, my schedule is packed fuller than usual. There are meetings with other rulers. Nobles. Our legion.

Days are spent in meetings. Nights are spent searching for the heart with the Wildling. It’s never-ending.

I remember Egan, sitting on his throne, going days without eating, simply because he was too busy. Going days without resting. I used to wonder how that was possible, but I don’t wonder anymore.

By the time I knock on her door, my eyes are ready to close.

But then they meet hers, and suddenly, I’m not so tired. She looks at me, a bit suspiciously. As if wondering why I’m staring at her for so long.

Right. I forgot she doesn’t know I do that all the time. I forgot I shouldn’t be looking at her like I have any right to memorize her.

We walk to Sky Isle in silence. We’ve searched this same field for days. I watch her from across the rows of plants, as she peers into the center of each one, in rapid succession. She’s gotten quicker. More efficient. Built her own systems, which I’ve shamelessly adopted.

By the end of the night, we meet in the middle, both coming up empty. We’ve looked for hours. Searched every single plant here. No heart.

We’re both covered head to toe in dirt. Both tired. Frustrated. We share a look—

And for the first time, she doesn’t look at me like I’m her enemy. No. She looks at me like we have something in common. Like we are allies.

“It’s not here,” she growls, her voice a tired rasp.

“No,” I say. “It isn’t.” And what does it say about me that I feel a sense of relief, because it means I might get to spend a little more time with her?

Because it means I might have another chance for her to look at me like this again, without the glaring? Without the hatred?

No. I shouldn’t be thinking this way. I should be angry that we haven’t found the heart. I should be worried.

We’ll go to the next place, with the next plants she pointed out in the oasis. We will find it. Then I will be rid of her and these confusing thoughts.

As we walk back through Sky Isle, we pass a woman who startles when she sees us. Her nose crinkles. We both must look like shit and smell like mud.

It takes her a moment to see the gleam of my crown beneath all the dirt, but when she does, her eyes widen. She bows her head, and says, eyes to the ground, voice full of trembling reverence, “My king, may you have a restful rest of your night.” Then, she scurries away.

Beside me, Isla makes a sound almost like a laugh.

I turn to her. “What?”

I expect her to ignore me, to give me a taste of my own treatment, but she tilts her head at me instead. “It’s just amusing, is all.”

“What is?” I ask flatly, almost positive that I am not going to find what comes out of her wicked mouth amusing .

She lifts a shoulder. “That the only thing standing between disdain and respect is a rusty old crown.”

I give her a heavy look. “You like my crown,” I say, knowing very well how many times she’s stared at it. How she flicked it.

She surprises me by taking a step forward. “If you mean I like defacing it ... then yes. I like it very much ,” she says, rising on her toes to flick it again.

I catch her wrist before she can. She gasps. Instead of retreating, she remains there, on her toes, just inches away.

For a moment ... we just stare at each other. And I fall into the impossible and futile task of trying to find something wrong with her. Maybe a fault would loosen the hold of this obsession, would be proof that she is not as perfect as I have built her up to be in my mind.

But there’s nothing.

Gods, even covered in dirt, she is beautiful.

“Wow,” she says, studying me back. Her tongue darts out to lick her lips. Her eyes are on my mouth.

“What?” I breathe.

Her gaze slowly slides to mine. Her voice is just a breathy whisper. She leans in. I swallow.

“You look even worse up close,” she says, before falling back onto her feet, and turning around.

She struts forward with unwavering confidence, chin held high.

But I stand very still, my skin blazing and heart on fire. Because her words ... what she said ...

They were a lie.

For someone responsible for an entire island at risk of being lost forever, I obsess far too much about a single phrase, spoken in a voice clearly meant to be infuriating.

But she lied . About finding me repulsive.

Does that mean she finds me ... attractive?

Or does she simply not find me as absolutely wretched as she has previously claimed?

I run my hand down my face. I am losing my fucking mind. I shouldn’t care. Dozens of women have approached me since the start of the Centennial, and they did not tell me I look even worse up close . Not that I gave them the chance, before turning down their advances.

So why do I care about a Wildling who is so damned maddening?

I’ve spent the entire day in meetings. I should go to bed.

I’m so deep in my mind as I make my way up to my room that I don’t even sense Azul in the quiet castle corridor until he stops me.

I blink, straightening. This is one of the back halls, the ancient ones with ill-fitting stones that let in too much cold at night.

People rarely use them ... which is why I do, when I can’t sleep.

When I need quiet. For Azul to have found me here, at this hour . .. he must have been seeking me out.

I bow my head slightly in greeting. Azul’s stare is long and piercing. He looks from my red eyes to my neck, where the blue has started to show past my shirt.

“So. You really are dying.”

He’s known me long enough to know I don’t lie.

Especially about anything that impacts the safety of the island.

I nod, and he curses. Looks to the floor.

He knows what this means as much as I do—this is our last chance at breaking the curses.

And our final chance to save the island.

Eventually he says, “Well, then. I have a plan.”

“Plan?”

He nods. “To end the curses once and for all.”

For a moment relief fills me, relief that someone else has a plan and that we will have a hope at ending all this death.

Then he says, “I will sacrifice myself.”

Disappointment and anger hit me at once, sharper than they usually would.