Page 68 of Grim and Oro (Lightlark)

THE BALL

I think I’ve lost the ability to breathe.

Isla Crown is walking down the stairs in a dress made entirely of leaves, and I can’t do anything but watch her. Some things are just meant to be admired, and she is above all of them.

I feel hotter than usual, feverish. Aware of her every movement, as if she’s the sun itself, and I’m just an orbiting planet.

I’m watching her because I’m suspicious, I tell myself. I’m waiting for her to show me her true colors.

Unsurprisingly, I taste bitterness.

She’s the key to finding the heart. That’s why I care. That’s why I want to trace her movements, and the shape of her dress. More bitterness. I hate lying, yet suddenly I’m lying to myself all the time. Her fault. She is maddening and bewitching.

She has turned me into a damned liar .

“Thirsty?” Zed asks as he approaches, his eyes on the goblet of wine I’ve just drained. His eyes go from mine to Isla, and he forms a mischievous smile.

“Don’t you have a perimeter to guard?” I snap. Instead of being annoyed at my tone, he looks delighted.

“Apologies for blocking your view,” he teases, before stepping away.

My hand curls tighter around the empty goblet. A sliver of pain shoots down my arm, a reminder of how far the blue mark has spread.

I shouldn’t be here, drinking wine from a goblet, staring at a woman who has no idea I look at her so closely. But I can’t help it.

Five centuries of darkness. No sunlight in sight. The fire in my chest withered and died, and only now has an ember again caught flame.

An ember for her, the Wildling who hates me.

She turns, and her eyes find mine. I swallow.

I can’t deny the searing desire in my chest as our gazes lock. That ember, for a moment, becomes a towering flame that spreads through my limbs and down my stomach, to the core of me.

I haven’t even touched you , I think.

But all my thoughts are about you .

I don’t want to look away. If anything, I want to look closer. I want to learn her like a poem. Unravel her like a riddle. I want to solve her like a problem. I want to become the world’s foremost expert on her.

A blush spreads across her cheeks, as if she could possibly hear my thoughts, my wants.

It makes me want to stride across the room and take her out of it.

It makes me want to yell at her, be angry at her for turning me into a blustering, obsessive fool.

It makes me want to whisper every single one of my truths across her skin.

Instead, I simply nod at her, then take another swig of wine, hoping it will steady my heart’s erratic rhythm.

It doesn’t. Neither does distraction. My mind is not on any of the conversations unfolding around me. It’s not on the feast, spread just feet away. It’s not on the music. It’s on a Wildling who has slipped from my line of sight.

She’s gone. Has she left? I should not care. I should not go looking for her.

But what if she’s in danger? She’s my partner again, thanks to the conversation we had last night, mending things. She’s crucial to my plan. Her safety is important to my interests. That’s the only reason I care.

Bitterness fills my mouth again.

The Wildling realm is critical. It needs a ruler that isn’t buried beneath Nightshade. That’s why I care.

Bitter poison.

My hands make fists. Fine. I care about her , I finally admit to myself. I fucking care .

Sweetness.

The doors crash open as I follow her. The warriors standing at attention there look surprised, but none question me, and for once, I am grateful I am king. I drain my goblet, then carelessly set it on a ledge, next to an ancient sculpture.

She couldn’t have gone far. I check room after room, growing increasingly desperate. Increasingly worried. Then I find her.

I find them . They are dancing.

Isla and Grim.

Alone.

And, just like that, the flame in my chest withers and dies. I back out of the room before either of them can notice my presence.

I return to the ballroom, and suddenly everything feels different. She wasn’t lying to me before, when she said she wasn’t going to tell Grim about our plans. I know that. Perhaps they started working together afterward.

Perhaps ... they are not working together at all and simply enjoy each other’s company.

That’s worse. So much worse, I think, than if they were simply plotting against me.

Because I care about her ... and she cares about him.

I have never been jealous of the Nightshade. Not ever. Not until I saw him dance with her.

“What happened?” Calder asks lightheartedly, approaching me while still keeping an eye on the ball.

“Nothing happened. Why?” I demand, snarling at the bitterness on my tongue.

He lifts his eyebrows.

“You look more insufferable than usual,” Zed observes, sidling up to us after having completed another lap of the perimeter. “Also, I thought you didn’t lie?”

I glare at my friends and drain another goblet of wine.

Enya peers at the empty chalice, completing our group. “I haven’t seen you drink this much in centuries.”

“Yet he maintains nothing is wrong,” Zed says wickedly.

Enya looks concerned. “What—”

We all notice when Grim and Isla walk into the ballroom. They might as well be hand in hand, the way they look at each other. This room might as well be on fire for how my anger is heating it.

The Nightshade stares at someone in the crowd, someone I can’t see. Then, the group shifts, and I see silver. Celeste? The Starling? Before I can wonder too much about it, Grim catches my gaze. Instead of looking pleased, he looks ... concerned.

I’m a moment from setting his cape aflame before he murmurs something to Isla, then slips out of the room.

“Where do you think he’s going?” Enya shifts, peering around a pillar that’s blocking her view of Grim.

“Should I follow?” Zed asks.

I nod almost imperceptibly, and the Skyling is gone.

I watch as Celeste approaches Isla. They seem to be becoming friends. I can’t hear their conversation, but it seems intense. Is the Starling concerned about Grim? Suspicious of him? Is that why he left after catching her gaze?

Suddenly, I’m grateful for the Starling’s presence. Suddenly, I could kiss her fucking feet. I take a step forward. Maybe I can hear what they’re saying. Maybe—

The room lurches.

Then, it shatters.

And Isla is gone. Gone .

Before I can find her, the ground beneath my feet parts, and Enya pulls me out of the way before it caves in completely.

The castle is shaking. It feels like the entire world is shaking. I meet Enya’s fiery gaze. “Grim,” she says, voice acidic. “It has to be Grim.” Zed went after him. My heart hammers in my chest. Is the Skyling okay?

The ceiling crumbles and screams echo through the hall. I shoot my hand out to create a Starling shield, to keep more of it from falling, but the blue sears into my veins, my diminishing power constricting. The shield fractures. It won’t hold.

“Go, save as many as you can,” I order. Enya nods, and I pull her back, my voice breathless. “Do you—”

She shakes her head. “No. Not today,” she says, and then she leaps away to pull a group of Sunlings out of the room. Her flames create ropes across the ceiling, strengthening the hold of my shield, keeping the rest of it from giving way.

The floor is coated in blood.

I fly across the room in a burst, taking people with me, carrying them to the side, while simultaneously trying to close the hole that’s formed in its center.

Every time I mend something, it breaks. Stone shatters.

Shards of ceiling fall through the cracks of my power.

Ceaseless tremors rattle the castle down to its very foundation.

Screams. People being crushed all around me. Cries for help.

Sharp pain shoots down my side, and I crash, sliding against the remaining marble.

My shield disintegrates. The ceiling collapses. I reach for my power.

But my skin is on fire. It’s tearing, like I am one big seam, one scar, ripping open. The pain is blinding, all-encompassing. My fingers dig into the floor, trying to stop the shaking of the castle, trying to stop the tremors. I’m the only one who can stop this. I have to stop this.

But I’m not strong enough.

I hear my father in my head.

Weak. Pathetic. Worthless .

Maybe he’s right. Here I am, weak and dying. Not even able to protect my own people.

Then I hear something else.

My name. It’s a blade through the screams and voices in my head.

That voice . I would know it anywhere. I wrench my eyes open and there she is, kneeling in front of me the same way I knelt in front of her, in the forest, when she was covered in thorns.

I don’t look at her for long. If I do, I might never stop.

I might let this entire room fall around us just to stare at my favorite color one last time before I die.

She won’t let me die, apparently.

She grabs my shoulders and yells right into my face, “Get up! People are dying. They need you!”

It’s true. Still, I can’t find the will to keep trying. I’m not strong enough. And I’m tired. So very tired. She should go. She should save herself.

She’s not moving. She’s not running. She’s not leaving me here. Against my will, my gaze slowly raises and meets hers again.

Green. Searing, fiery green, like a world on fire.

Pain strikes me like lightning again, and I growl, my fingers digging into the stone.

Then she says a word I never imagined would leave her lips, not directed toward me, anyway. “ Please ,” she says.

“ Leave ,” I say through gritted teeth. I’m not as strong as she thinks I am. If I die ... maybe she won’t. She’s Wildling; she isn’t connected to this land as much as the other realms. Maybe when the island is rubble at the bottom of the sea, some shred of beauty will have survived.

She doesn’t move a muscle.

No. She’s not going anywhere. I can see that in the frustrated curl of her lip. With a growl, she takes my shirt in her fists and shoves me back with surprising strength, snapping me out of my numb trance.

Then she says, “You might be dying, but you’re not dead yet, you miserable wretch, now get up and do something before you allow your brother’s sacrifice and everything we all have lost to be for nothing.”

My brother . Egan. He was always the better between us. He deserved to live. Not me. Pain lances through me.

Then it’s replaced by something even more powerful. Love.

Even after what he did, I never stopped loving him. Even after centuries, I never forgot my mother. My love for my friends never wavered. My love for this place ... this island that holds all my memories, the best and worst of them, is endless.

I love my land. I love my people. It glows within me in a flame my mother taught me to find.

I groan as I reach for it, fumbling through the darkness and pain.

I clutch it in my hands and let it shoot through my blood.

Using emotions to fuel power is reckless.

Dangerous. But I don’t have a choice. Not anymore.

Not when this island is breaking around me.

For them—for them I will find my fire. Every time .

Until I am all but extinguished .

I dig my hands into the marble and force out every ounce of power I never should have gotten, every beautiful and painful memory with my family, everything I do and don’t deserve, until the room finally goes still.

Then, all I see is darkness.

“He’s breathing.”

Enya’s arms are wrapped around me, squeezing. Her red hair is in my face. Her heart is racing against my skin.

“I won’t be, if you keep holding me so tightly,” I manage to croak, and her laugh is mixed with a relieved sob. She pulls back and I blink, seeing the red rimming her eyes. She doesn’t cry. Not ever.

“Was it really that close?” I ask.

Even Zed is solemn. “You have no idea. For a moment—for a moment we didn’t think you were breathing.”

It was dangerous, using emotions. We aren’t supposed to. It’s too easy to let your entire power source drain, killing you. I never would have even attempted it, if I believed there was any other way to stop the tremors.

“Grim did this,” I say.

“He didn’t.” Zed.

My eyes shift to his. They urge him to explain.

“I was watching him the entire time, Oro. He didn’t use his powers.”

I shake my head. Grimshaw can create illusions; his powers are greater than we can imagine. “How do you know?”

Zed scowls. “Because he caught me following him and was a moment from putting his blade through my chest, when we felt the castle trembling.” I curse, and Zed lifts a shoulder. “He—he went pale. He ran toward the ballroom like a madman. So did I.”

He was worried about Isla. I know it for certain. He cares for her in a way I believed impossible.

Until I felt those kinds of feelings too.

Now, I’m not sure if anything is truly impossible anymore.

If he cares for her ... then he wouldn’t have risked her life to destroy the castle. “So, who did this?”

Calder looks pensive. “Maybe no one did. Maybe ... the island is breaking. Dying, just like you are.”

That would explain the pain. I felt like my skin was ripping open, just like the land itself.

“We need to end these curses,” I say. “Now. Before the hundred days are over.”

Egan and the rest of the rulers sacrificed themselves to give us a chance to save this island and the realms.

No one is coming to save us, I know.

It’s up to us to save ourselves.