Page 97 of Lightlark
Cleo’s assassination attempt negated all that he had said about her and the games. Isla spotted the Moonling then, at the top of her own staircase. Anger curled in her stomach. It was the first time she had seen Cleo since she had tried to have her killed.
It was quickly replaced by a dark satisfaction.That didn’t go the way you planned, did it?her smile said as she stared at the Moonling from across the room. The ruler met her gaze, but there was no triumph in it. Oranything,really. Her face was a mystery, revealing nothing.
Snow fell in sheets from clouds that crowded the glass ceiling, shadows danced along the walls, trees grew from the marble floor, silver stardust was smeared like paint down the stairs, and dozens of rings of fire hung above their heads.
Isla knew exactly what to expect.
But it was still magnificent.
The rulers began their coordinated descent.
Lightlark nobles and, in Skyling’s case, representatives, awaited below. Many stared at her dress. Some whispered and grinned at each other behind ornate fans, as if gossiping about her impending assassination. Coins clattered as they were exchanged between hands. Were there bets on rulers’ deaths?
Some Moonlings regarded her with clear malice. Perhaps the nobles she and Celeste had killed were their friends. Or family.
Isla stared them down and hoped they feared her.
As soon as her heel reached the marble floor, a single brave man peeled away from the crowd. A Starling in a silver suit. Other nobles gasped at his foolishness. He bowed his head and offered his hand. “Would you honor me?” he asked.
Normally, Isla might have refused. She already felt on edge and off-kilter, the snow and smeared starlight and flames bright in every corner of her vision.
But it was important she appeared unaffected by the prospect of the first rule expiring at midnight. Fear would only make her an easier target.
Isla took the Starling’s hand, and he immediately whisked her into the center of the ballroom. Poppy had taught her all the traditional dances. She moved effortlessly through the steps, as easily as twirling her blades in her hands, and the Starling kept up, spinning her perfectly, keeping a firm hand on her lower back and his feet away from hers.
The song changed, and she had another dance partner. Then another. Another. Celeste was nearby, dancing with just as many people, doing a better job at looking like she was having a good time.
Cleo was sitting in one of the corners of the room, surrounded by Moonling nobles.
Watching her.
Waiting?
Azul stood by a long spread of food, goblet in hand. He wore a cape entirely made up of Skyling jewels, his every knuckle glimmeringwith gems. From across the room, he gave a nod of appreciation to the large diamond teardrop earrings she wore that skimmed the sides of her neck.
She smiled back politely.
Some nobles tracked the exchange, perhaps suspecting an alliance.
Good. Let them suspect anything but the truth.
She thought back to the conversation she had heard between him and Oro. Had he really not been speaking of her realm?
If so, which realm had he been speaking about ending?
No one was busier than Oro, who lingered by his throne. He wore gold, as always, with sleeves covering every inch of the bluish gray she now knew was growing down his arm. Dozens of nobles surrounded him, asking questions he answered lazily between sips of drink. But his eyes were alert. A handful of women seemed determined to get a bit closer to him, not afraid to discreetly push each other out of the circle to do so. Isla rolled her eyes. Just when she was about to look away, he met her gaze. And nodded before taking another swig of wine.
She looked around for the last ruler ... but didn’t see him anywhere.
After yet another dance, she excused herself, her head spinning and throat dry from small talk. She stumbled out into the hallway, into the closest room, and closed the doors firmly behind her.
It wasn’t a room at all. At least, not one with four walls. Her steps echoed against the stone floor until she reached an interior balcony. There were more of the same levels, above and below it, like layers of a cake crafted out of marble. Her eyes closed and her fingers gripped the railing as tightly as if it was a starstick that could transport her anywhere else.
Isla hated the fake smile she had worn all night. She hated the nobles who had watched her every move. She hated how closelyshehad watched the clock, every bell marking the hours making her stomach sink with dread. She—
“Looking for me, Hearteater?”
Isla whipped around, and Grim was there, towering over her. He wore a much nicer version of his typical clothing, a black suit with a shining cape.
