Page 43 of Lightlark
“I’m sorry I ran off,” she said. It really was rude, after he had helped her. “I came to thank you, again. And to offer something to you, in thanks for—for what you did.”
A grin began to overtake his face at the mention of an offering. “Oh?” he said, voice somehow growing even deeper.
Isla glared at him, as if to say,Not that kind of offering.He was shameless. Was he like this with everyone? Was she only the latest person he had decided to flirt with?
It had to be part of his plan. Which only made what she was about to do all the more foolish.
His eyes only glimmered deviously.
“My demonstration is next,” Isla said, the words rushing out of her before she could change her mind. “Tomorrow. It requires preparation.”
Grim’s face went surprisingly serious. “Hearteater, you don’t have to—”
No. She did have to. Grim knew one of her secrets now, after finding her in the Skyling clothing. He hadhelpedher, by turning her invisible to avoid Cleo. Isla was beholden to him. She didn’t like that. She would tell him this information, then be done with it.
“It’s demonstrating the worth of your realm by showing something of value it’s created, for the future of Lightlark.”
The Nightshade did not break her gaze. He did not grin. He did not thank her. He simply nodded.
She nodded back.
It was only late that night, staring up at her ceiling instead of sleeping, that she wondered if she had made a grave mistake.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ELIXIR
Isla had given them an hour.
Instead of a trial focusing on the power of their ruler—for obvious reasons—Isla wished to test the ability of their realm. Her people might not be on the island, but it was a chance for her to show Lightlark all they were beyond their bloodthirsty curse.
Her guardians had wanted the demonstration to be something different. An opportunity to further their own strategy.
Isla had convinced them that showing that her people couldhealjust as much as they couldkillmight convince the other rulers of Wildlings’ value, especially over Nightshade, who only destroyed.
Her warning Grim of the demonstration negated some of that strategy. Complicated everything.
They were back in the arena. Isla wanted as many islanders as possible present to see what she had brought from her newland.
She had already announced her trial to a wary audience. Her voice had been surprisingly smooth, no hint of her nerves peeking through.
The rules had been stated as well. The audience would vote for which demonstration of a realm’s abilities was most useful in securing the future of the island. No one could vote for their own ruler—though Isla was under no illusion that it would give Wildling a fair shot. She wouldn’t win. But she didn’t need to. All the crowd needed to know was that Wildlings were more than wicked seductresses.
The rulers stood on the sidelines. She wondered if an hour had been enough time to prepare—for the ones who didn’t already know about the demonstration, anyway.
Their expressions gave nothing away, waiting for her to call out their names.
“Azul.”
The ruler swept into the center of the arena, followed by a trail of other Skylings, who were aiding in the demonstration. “Our realm has been working on a form of communication that uses wind. Easier communication means more efficiency, streamlined processes ... faster invitations to parties.” The crowd laughed. Azul certainly knew how to present himself. Isla thought back to what he had said about Skyling’s government the day before. His people did seem to adore him. Was it because he had given them choice? She of all people could understand the importance of freedom ...
He grabbed a piece of parchment from an interior pocket of his cape and wrote a message on it. Then he folded it carefully into a square and used his power to fly it across the arena, right into Isla’s hand.
All eyes were on her. She folded open the page and read the words the ruler had scrawled:Of course, we also have our music...
Isla couldn’t help but smile.
“This can be replicated on a grand scale,” Azul added. He motioned to the rest of the Skylings who had joined him. They carried stacks of sheets of parchment. Without warning, they threw all of it into the air. Before her eyes, each page folded neatly, then set off, one after the other, on dozens of paths the Skylings had created in the sky, wind currents for the messages to use as trails to their recipients. A true infrastructure for mass communication.
