Page 139 of Skyshade
“I know,” she said. She swallowed, understanding what she must do. “They’ll never forgive me.” It was a risk. Reckless.
“Then make sure,” Remlar said, “it’s worth it.”
NO ONE
Lark wouldn’t find the heart of Lightlark. Isla would make sure of it. The slice of power was warm and bright in her palm as she surfaced on Sky Isle, Remlar’s instructions sharp in her mind.
She didn’t even see the vines until they were wrapped around her and she was on her knees. A row of thorns forced her fingers open, peeling her skin in coils. She had no choice but to drop the heart.
Right into Lark’s awaiting hand.
“Thank you so much for finding it for me,” Lark said, her smile serpentine.
Isla bellowed as she fought against the restraints. Her anger exploded off her in waves of energy, sending the vines flying in pieces. In a moment she was on her feet, wiping her bloody hands down her clothing.
Lark frowned as she curled her fingers around the shining orb. Its light faded until it went dull and only an acorn remained. A very helpful illusion Grim had helped her master. “What is this?” she demanded.
“It’s a trap,” Isla said, and then the world exploded.
The acorn hadn’t been an acorn at all, but something Zed had previously developed, an orb filled with their own concentrated power. It burst in Lark’s hand, throwing them both backward.
Isla was caught by Grim’s shadows, the cold darkness smoothing tenderly around her body and swimming across the skin torn by Lark’s vines.
The Wildling landed on the other side of the clearing. Her body had been brutalized by the burst of energy, but she was healing quickly.
“Now,” Isla yelled, and Oro was there, Remlar’s blade in hand. The cursed weapon glistened. He didn’t waste a moment.
Isla didn’t dare breathe as he pulled back and stabbed the knife straight through Lark’s heart.
Darkness seemed to swallow the world, blinding them for a moment before retreating. There was a gurgled scream.
The shard of ice came from nowhere. It struck Oro, and Isla roared. She broke free from the shadows and rushed forward but was thrown back by a sheet of water so concentrated, her spine hit the trees again.
Cleo stepped out of the woods. Isla should have known. Of course the Moonling was working with Lark.
Grim’s shadows rushed forward; he would end her in half a second. “Careful, Grim,” the Moonling said. “Hurt any of us, and your wife’s pretty little head will hit the ground.”
That was when Isla felt a cold sword against her throat. “Hello again,” a voice said. Soren.
The traitor.
Lark had mentioned someone had helped her surface...somehow, Cleo must have managed it. She wondered how that was possible, when only Grim’s ability could free her.
It didn’t matter now. Lark was cursed. Immobilized.
Even with the blade at her neck, Isla melted with relief.
Until Lark began to move again. To her horror, the Wildling stood, the dagger still sticking through her heart. No. Impossible. The curse was supposed to last at least a few hours, long enough to send her through the portal.
Slowly, Lark’s skin began stitching around the blade, until the dagger was expelled and fell to the floor, as if it was nothing more than steel.
It didn’t make sense; Remlar had bound the curse with his life.
The Wildling smiled again. “It seems we both planned traps today.
You don’t think I know where you went? Who you went to for help?”
She raised her hand, and the trees above shook. From its branches, a body dropped down, limp and dead. Eyes wide and pale blue throat slit.
