Page 76 of Nightbane
Isla turned to him, an eyebrow raised. “But you trust me?”
“Absolutely not.” He took a step toward her. Another. “If you have any desire at all to survive the Centennial, you will not tell anyone in your court either.”
Her court. She didn’t even know what that was. Celeste didn’t have a court, just her string of guardians who died every few years and were replaced, an endless cycle. Terra and Poppy were the only people Isla saw regularly.
As if she would ever tell any of them. They would all call her a fool for working with the Nightshade. They would ensure she could never leave her room again until the Centennial.
“What about the blacksmith? He knows we’re looking for it.”
Grim shook his head gruffly. “He won’t remember.”
She tilted her head at him. “Why?”
“Few people are foolish enough to visit him in the first place. But, in an abundance of caution, I took his memories away.”
Isla blinked. “That’s something ... you can do?”
He nodded, as if it were not the cruelest power in the world.
“It’s ... permanent?”
“If I want it to be.”
She shivered. There were still so many unanswered questions. If he needed the sword so badly, why didn’t he look for it before? Why now? What had changed?
Isla wondered if she should back out. Grim was clearly using her. Now she wasn’t even sure if what he had promised was worth the risk.
She and Celeste had a plan for the Centennial. She hadn’t managed to find the skin gloves, but there was still time. Almost a year.
Isla looked around her room. The glass cage. Grim was insufferable, but the search for the sword promised something she had longed for since she was a child. Freedom. Escape, for just a while.
“So ...” she said, wondering if she was making a huge mistake. The blacksmith had said the sword was stolen and last sensed on Grim’s territory. “Who are the best thieves on Nightshade?”
PREMONITION
There was still no word on the Skyling vote. It had been pushed back, after much debate. Most Wildlings trained for war, and the rest worked nonstop to make more healing elixirs. Starlings on the newland were creating special armor for them, infused with energy.
Now, she needed to focus on the shield. Maren had promised Isla a list of the greatest wielders on Star Isle, to determine how large it would be.
Days had passed without her request being fulfilled. It was unlike Maren, who had managed all other aspects of preparing for the incoming war and evacuation with ease. Enya had helped Isla provide direct aid to Star Isle in the last few weeks—food, resources, guards at their bridge—and Maren had managed everything without issue.
She was clearly surprised to see Isla when she stepped foot on Star Isle.
“Isla,” Maren said. “I wasn’t expecting you today. We can get—”
“Who is the best Starling at wielding?” Isla asked. “Just—just take me to them.” Her tone was harsh, but Grim was coming in only twenty days. They couldn’t waste a moment.
Maren didn’t meet her eyes. It took her several seconds to even say a word. “There are a few who are skilled. I can take you to them.”
“No,” Isla said. “Who is the best?” She frowned. “Is it—is it you?” Was that why Maren had been evasive?
Maren shook her head.
“Then who?”
The Starling met her eyes. The intensity there took Isla aback. “The king hasn’t changed his mind about taking fighters who aren’t volunteers?”
“No. No one is being forced to fight. We just need energy for the shield.”
