Page 9 of Skyshade
Instead, she was in this cold castle. Staring at herself in a mirror. Wishing she had never agreed to put on this damn necklace.
Nothing would break it, she had tried. Only in her death would it be released.
Soon, then.
Her jaw tightened; her teeth ground together. Enough. She was done speculating about how much time she had left, or the prophecy’s meaning, or whether her fate could be changed at all. She needed answers.
Unfortunately for her, the only person who could give them to her—the oracle who had given the prophecy in the first place—was dead.
She sighed, moving toward the wardrobe, then stilled.
The oracle was dead...but she’d had sisters. Other oracles who hadn’t awoken in thousands of years. Cleo had captured them.
Something dangerous—something like hope—began to bloom in her chest.
If she found Cleo’s fleet, if she found the oracles...they could tell her more about the prophecy. About the time she had left. Maybe even how to change her fate.
It was a risk. Cleo was her enemy now more than ever. Isla didn’t have powers; she would be easy to kill, if she could even locate the Moonling’s fleet. Cleo’s ships could be anywhere. They would likely be on their way back to the Moonling newland by now.
No, she realized. Not the Cleo she had come to know. Cleo wanted to go through the portal more than anything; it was the only way to be reunited with her child. She wouldn’t simply retreat to her isle—she would have a plan. Grim’s portaling power was essential to getting to the otherworld. Cleo would attempt to convince Grim to reconsider his decision.
The Moonling would be heading to Nightshade.
Isla’s steps were quiet as she paced the room. Even if she was right, the sea was vast. The journey from Lightlark to Nightshade was long.
If only she could fly. If only she hadn’t given up her powers.
She could portal back to the blacksmith right now. He could take the bracelets off. It would be so easy. She could even have him put them back afterward...
Isla pulled that thought out by the root. That was how it would start. Excuse after excuse, reason after reason, until the bracelets were off more than they were on.
Until something terrible happened again.
The ash. The ruin. The bodies—
No. She didn’t need power. She hadn’t needed it for most of her life.
She would find Cleo’s fleet without it.
A bouquet of flowers lay outside her door. Dark red roses. She wanted to burn them.
A note was attached. It was scrawled in his sharp script, the same handwriting as the invitation to his demonstration during the Centennial.
I’m sorry, it said. Please have dinner with me. Again.
She wasn’t going to go. She had left the flowers untouched. But as she took a ride on Lynx’s back, mentally considering ways to find Cleo’s fleet, she remembered another creature.
A tiny bundle of scales.
She had spent the rest of the day looking for him in the castle, without any luck. He wasn’t in the stables either. By late afternoon, her chest twisted with worry.
Where was he?
Grim looked entirely too pleased to see her that evening. He stood immediately when she entered, then portaled to her chair to pull it out for her.
For the first few minutes, they ate their food in silence: him looking up every few moments, studying her, as if cataloging what she did and didn’t enjoy; her trying her best not to care that he had meticulously planned each course to coincide with things she liked. Again. Strips of seasoned meat cooked all the way through, fluffy grains, root vegetables spiraled into ribbons. There was a chocolate dessert course. Of course there was.
Being this close to him made memories expand, like they were a sea trying to drown her. Some, featuring the tiny creature.
