Page 66 of Grim and Oro (Lightlark)

BETTER AIM

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Enya says tentatively. We’re having tea in my mother’s garden. It’s our mothers’ shared birthday. Enya’s mother didn’t know her parents, didn’t know the date she was born, so our mothers picked one to celebrate together, just as they shared almost everything else.

“Who?” I ask, as if I don’t already know.

“The Wildling.”

I frown. “What about her?”

“She’s the reason you’re ... feeling again?”

I laugh without humor. “Yes, if that feeling is irritation.”

Lie . I bite my teeth against the flash of bitterness. It’s potent, as if my body is reprimanding itself. Enya looks like she can sense it too. Like she has my power. Though after hundreds of years of friendship, she doesn’t need it.

“You are working with her, but these are desperate times. You suspect she is planning against you. She is your enemy,” she tells me, as if I don’t already know. As if she’s reminding me.

“I am aware,” I say through my teeth. My eyes are on my tea.

“I’m worried about you.”

“You should be,” I say. “I’m dying.”

She sighs from across the way. “I’m serious.”

I lift up my arm, where the blue is showing. “So am I.” I take another sip of my tea. “And you ... are you?”

“Dying soon? No. Not yet.”

The truth of that is sweeter than the honey in my tea. That, at least, is a relief.

“So,” I say, eager to change the subject. “Do you want to help me track down a specter?”

She raises her eyebrows. “Why?”

“The ancient creatures might know where the heart of Lightlark is.”

“Haven’t you tried that before?”

I have. I’ve asked several. “They all said they know of it, but haven’t seen it recently .

.. The specter on Star Isle will know whether it’s there or not.

” There are too many places with the plants Isla indicated to search in the remaining days of the Centennial.

If we can get lucky and choose the right isle—or even eliminate one from consideration—it would help our search.

Enya winces. “I hate that specter.”

“I know,” I say, remembering an ill-fated meeting with her, centuries before. “She’s even harder to find now, if you can believe it.” I take another sip of my tea. “So? Are you in? Or should I ask Zed?”

Enya puts down her cup and grins. “Of course, I’m in.”

I watch the Wildling through a window, from far away, careful to avoid the slivers of sunlight peeking through the clouds.

She’s throwing blades at the wall. She’s angry at something.

I’m angry too.

Hours before, I learned about an attempt on her life ... by Moonling nobles. Calder was watching them, but their faction has many groups. By the time he learned of the attack in the broken harbor, all that was left were dead bodies, with a message scrawled in blood.

Try harder .

I might laugh at the Wildling’s wit, if I didn’t feel a stab of fear.

The nobles supposedly acted alone. But if Cleo was behind the attempt, she will be tried. This was against the rules. This was exactly the outcome I was trying to avoid by speaking to her.

The Wildling was almost killed .

I think about that, as I watch her throwing her blades. As I feel palpable relief in my bones that the Moonlings failed. For a moment, I wish I could be down there with her, in the sunlight. I wish I could see her eyes under its rays.

Then— him . Grimshaw appears, seemingly out of nowhere. I grip the windowsill, burning myself in the process. I lurch backward, cursing.

She launches one of her blades at him, and I mourn the fact that it misses his head by a few inches.

Aim better next time, love , I think.

I can’t hear them. Damn this curse. Damn the fact that I can’t go down there right now and take her away.

She leaves with him.

I can’t follow them, but I’m high enough to see their path. He’s taking her in the direction of Wild Isle. Did she ask him to take her there?

Why didn’t she ask me?

I wait impatiently for hours by the window, but they don’t return. At least, not in the same direction that I can see from this window. As soon as the sun sets, I leave the castle, flying toward Wild Isle, wondering if she’s still there, or maybe she returned ...

There she is. I spot her from above, outside the Place of Mirrors. She’s alone. I land near the bridge, before my powers can be muted, and go on foot the rest of the way.

By the time I reach the Place of Mirrors, she’s already inside, having left a trail of footprints for me to follow. I enter quietly, slipping to the back of the room. She’s too distracted to notice me—she’s staring at the back wall. She’s trying to open a door.

Interesting. I never knew it was a door. The Place of Mirrors is a place of mystery. I’ve rarely been back since the Wildlings left.

She seems intent on this one spot. She growls as she tries to get it open. If my powers worked in here, I might help her.

I stay longer than I should, watching from the shadows. Then I go to Star Isle, to meet the specter.

It took days for Enya and me to find her lurking in a pile of ancient ruins. It took even longer to lure her out of hiding.

She wouldn’t appear with Enya there, because of what happened last time. Enya just rolled her eyes and wished me good luck.

Today, I’m alone. I wait in the center of the ruins, thinking of Isla. Thinking of her trying, with all her might, to get that hidden door open.

The air goes cold.

“King.” The specter’s voice is like a bell, cutting a sharp melody through my mind.

I turn to find her appearing from a column.

She looks just like a normal woman—save for the glow of her skin, and her hair, floating around her as if underwater.

She circles around me, far too close for comfort, gray eyes wide and glimmering with excitement.

The specter has a strange fascination with me.

I’ve never understood it and have avoided her at all costs. But for this, she can be useful.

She reaches out toward me, and I take step back. I get right to the point. “Do you know whether or not the heart of Lightlark is on Star Isle?”

She pouts at me, as if upset that I’m not just here for lively conversation. Then, after a long while, she finally says, “Yes.”

Truth.

I step forward. A wicked smile curves across her pale face. My desperation seems to please her. I don’t give a damn. “I’ll give you anything. Riches. Information ...”

That makes her laugh. “What would I do with riches? With books? No. I only want one thing. One thing, and I will give you what you ask for.”

“What is it?”

“I want to walk in a body.”

A chill rakes through me. “No.”

She’s undeterred. “For just a few moments.”

I think about the heart. About how desperately I need to find it. “Fine,” I utter with difficulty. I outstretch my arms, knowing for certain I’m going to regret this.

She laughs again, the sound high-pitched, echoing through the vaulted ruins. “No, no. You miss the point completely ... I don’t want your skin . I want to wear another’s.”

I wonder if any of my friends would ever consider it. Definitely not Enya. “I’ll see—”

She narrows her eyes. “Not just anyone’s skin, King. I want to wear the skin of the most beautiful woman on this island. The most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen.” She blinks her lashes at me. “ That’s who I want. No one less.”

I grind my teeth, wishing I hadn’t immediately pictured someone. Wishing I could lie and say I don’t know anyone worthy of the title.

But I do.

The Wildling, is, objectively, beautiful. I see how others look at her. Admire her. I’ve been admiring her like it’s my sole purpose in life.

The specter will be pleased with her.

“Fine,” I agree, knowing the Wildling will absolutely despise this. It will be her choice, of course.

I hope she is as desperate as I am to break these curses.