Page 70 of Skyshade
Aurora would betray her just like she had before. It would be foolish to follow anything the dead Starling said.
Still, before she had shoved the feather back in the drawer, she had asked,
Would you teach me?
The answer was immediate. Yes.
Why would you help me?
There was a minute of nothing. Two. Then, the feather rose and wrote, Redemption.
It was a word Isla identified with, though she still didn’t trust her. There had to be another way to find the portal. Something she was missing.
That night, she funneled her rage and pain into visiting three different towns. Hunting down those who had wronged others.
By the time she reached her rooftop, she was starving. Thirsty. Sairsha and her usual basket of goods awaited her. They hadn’t seen each other in days.
“The little savior is tired,” Sairsha said, stretching her legs long across the roofing. There was the aftermath of a pastry in her lap, crumbs everywhere.
“Don’t call me that,” Isla said weakly, sinking to the place next to her.
Sairsha only smirked. “Is heartripper preferable?”
Isla winced at the name. It wasn’t the worst she had been called. The truth was carved out of her. “No. I don’t like names, or titles. They come with expectations. And I so often fall short of them.”
A ruler of Wildling who didn’t live among her people. A ruler of Starling, who had given her position up, since she wasn’t the best choice. A wife of a Nightshade she would likely betray, because it made sense to kill Grim to fulfill the prophecy, if they were all going to die anyway. It was a thought she had kept suppressed, but the weeks of winter were dwindling down without progress.
They were all going to die. Because Grim gave her life.
She shut her eyes against the images. The ash. The bodies. She was responsible for so much death, and there was so much more to come.
Isla felt something smooth against her hand. Sairsha had placed a bottle of wine in it. She was shaking her head at her. “Don’t do that. Don’t underestimate yourself, when you’re trying. So many people never bother. They decide they can’t make a difference, so they don’t even try. And trying...that’s the hardest part. Not succeeding, but all the trying it takes to get there.”
Isla raised a brow at Sairsha. “You sound like an expert.”
Sairsha laughed. “No. But I had a sister once, and she told me the same thing. I’m just repeating her words. She—now she was truly asavior. Half our village was in the path of a landslide. Every storm, it would get worse. She was determined to stop it, even though everyone told her it was impossible. Inevitable.”
“Did she stop it?”
Sairsha’s smile was sad. “No. She was buried under the rubble while trying.”
Isla’s throat worked. She wondered if the prophecy, and her fate, was her own form of a landslide.
Inevitable.
After a few moments of silence, Sairsha turned to her and said, “Why do you do this? Why do you care about us?”
Isla fiddled with the cap at the top of the wine bottle Sairsha had handed her. How much to say? Lies were easier to tell when wrapped with truth. “I want to make amends. Get redemption...for the things I’ve done.” She noticed how easily she echoed the feather. Echoed Aurora.
Sairsha nodded sagely. Her eyes went to the knives and sword on Isla’s waist, and she wondered if the woman was thinking about how much blood had crusted on those blades. Isla drank some of the wine and winced at its sour bite.
“I joined a group out of a need for redemption too,” Sairsha admitted. “I was a thief on the streets when I happened upon them. They gave me hope that my skills could be used for something good. Something important.”
Isla wondered what group Sairsha was talking about; but when she opened her mouth to ask, she found she couldn’t form words. Her face had gone still. Her vision began to swim in front of her. Sairsha’s concerned face became a blur.
She needed to go. Something was wrong. Isla’s hands gripped the rooftop to lift off of it; but her limbs were useless, buckling beneath her. She fell over onto the roof with a thud.
Sairsha’s distorted face peered at her from overhead.
