Page 21 of Skyshade
That was when she saw them.
Curved-over creatures with talons that clicked as they crawled through the caves, their horns like crowns of daggers. They were almost as wide as the tunnels themselves. If the beasts caught up to them, Isla and Grim would be torn to shreds.
Faster. They needed to go faster.
Her legs ached as she pushed forward, but it wasn’t quickly enough. The creatures were advancing. She had to slow down for fear of crashing into another wall.
The tunnels diverged again, and instead of choosing the one with the path of lights overhead, she dragged Grim in the other direction.
He followed her lead without slowing. “Is there a strategy I should be aware of?”
She motioned at the tunnel. A light smattering of crystals barely lit their path. The clicking was getting louder. They were right behind them. “Look. The walls are getting smaller.”
Ever so slightly. It was a gamble, to see if it would continue to narrow. They ran and ran, and Isla wondered if perhaps she had led them down the wrong path. If there was only one right one, and they had lost it. Doubt nearly choked her.
Then there was a terrible high-pitched noise as the creatures’ horns began to scrape against the walls.
Hope made her run faster. Just a little farther. They just needed to get a little—
She fell, skidding on her knees. One of the horns had torn a gash down her leg. Her scream echoed through the tunnel, and she turned around, arms in front of her, ready to be shredded—
But the creature was stuck. It snapped its wild teeth at her, just inches away, but did not reach her. Its horns were caught.
Before she could sigh in relief, the other creatures slammed behind it, sending the beast lurching forward. A moment before its jaw locked around her leg, Grim pulled her to her feet. He examined her wound. “The cut isn’t deep. Can you walk?”
She nodded, but at the first step, her knee nearly buckled with the pain. It didn’t matter. They had to keep going, lest the creatures break their horns and fit through.
They raced down the tunnel, slower than before, around a different corner, before she collapsed to the ground. Grim began to diligently wrap her leg with supplies from his pack. He was right: It wasn’t deep, but it stung.
It would be difficult climbing the rest of the way with an injured leg, but they didn’t even have the option of turning around. Not with the horned creatures completely blocking their path. The only way through was up.
“Ready?”
She wasn’t. The pain burned. The tunnel was growing darker again. She didn’t know how much she would crave light and greeneryuntil she was completely without it. Still, she stood and took the hand Grim offered.
He hadn’t taken this path on his previous journey—neither knew what they would face. For an hour, they walked in silence. The tunnel kept getting smaller, and smaller, until Grim’s head nearly brushed the ceiling. The floor slightly tilted downward, instead of up. They could be going the wrong direction. It didn’t matter now. They didn’t have another choice anyway.
The silence bred endless thoughts, especially this close to Grim. All the questions she had wanted to ask him, the ones she had kept buried for months after the Centennial.
“You thought working with Aurora would save my life, didn’t you?” she asked.
She shouldn’t care. It was in the past.
But she did. She cared a lot.
His eyes hardened. She could tell he didn’t like thinking about it.
“Her plan promised us all Lightlark’s power. I thought it might be enough to sustain your life for centuries, until we found another solution. I was going to move my people from Nightshade, away from the storms.”
Aurora had tricked Grim into believing the prophecy to break the curses involved a Sunling king having to fall in love with a Wildling ruler—the history that had to be repeated.
She had used him, just like she had used Isla.
“You didn’t think to tell me? You didn’t think to include me?”
He stopped dead in his tracks. She did too. They faced each other. “All I thought about was your survival. I regret it. I told you that.”
Regret wasn’t enough.
