Page 18 of Skyshade
The air around her changed, sharpened. The color drained from Poppy’s face as she stared somewhere behind Isla.
“You’ll watch how you speak to my wife in our home.” Grim’s voice was as piercing as the blade at his side. It would have made her blood go cold, if she weren’t the wife in question.
Terra didn’t seem concerned that Grim could turn her to ash without so much as a glare, as she barked a laugh. “And a coward too? Needing your demon husband to defend you?”
She stepped forward, drawing her blade from its sheath. In half a moment, it was aimed at Terra’s throat.
“Speak to either of us that way again, and you’ll find you won’t be able to speak at all,” she said steadily. Poppy paled even further. “I might have saved your life during the Centennial, but I am not beyond ripping your tongue out of your skull.” The violence of her words shocked her, but she did not backtrack. She did not shrink into herself.
If Terra didn’t like it, then she could only blame herself. This was who her guardian had trained her to be.
Terra almost looked impressed for a moment. Then, she frowned. She looked tired. Her voice barely contained any acid as she said, “Hate us for a thousand different reasons, but I’m putting an end to one of them once and for all. We did not kill your parents.”
Isla didn’t know what she had expected Terra to say, but it wasn’t this. She bared her teeth. How dare she lie to her so blatantly? Did she think she wouldn’t do as she promised and kill her on the spot?
“You admitted it,” she said.
Terra did not deny that. She said nothing at all.
Why accept the blame? It didn’t make any sense. “Liar.”
“Yes. A thousand times,” Terra said. “But not now. Not about this.”
She could know for certain. She could reach for Oro’s flair. She had used Grim’s before, she could—
With the bracelets, she couldn’t. And she wasn’t going to take them off. Not for anything.
She forced her face back to indifference. It didn’t matter now. She had far bigger issues. “I assume you didn’t come here just to clear your names.”
“No,” Terra confirmed. “We came to tell you about the nightbane.”
She frowned. “What about it?”
“It’s dead.”
Dead? “How much?”
There was a pause. Then, “All of it.”
Once, the dark violet flowers had made up fields of star-shaped petals. Isla had stood here with Grim, marveling at their existence. They were miracles, every single one, capable of both life and death—healing and killing.
Now, they had all shriveled up and died. Isla picked one from the ground and watched it turn to ash between her fingers.
“We salvaged what we could,” Wren said beside her. It had been a relief to see the Wildling leader safe.
Isla knew she needed to address her people. It had been days since she had returned.
Wren’s leadership in her absence was a gift. The Wildling told her about the castle Grim had relocated them to, an abandoned estate with fields fit for farming and more than enough room for all of them.
Grim appeared minutes later, and Isla did not miss how Wren watched him warily. She turned her attention back to the wilted flowers.
“Secure any of our remaining elixirs,” she told Wren. “We have seeds from the newland, right?” The plant was notoriously slow to grow. For the time being, the healing elixirs would be limited.
Wren nodded, bowed her head, and turned to give orders.
Isla studied the ground. The storm. She remembered how Grim said it had ruined lands before.
Grim was silent by her side. She could feel his tension. His worry. It echoed her own.
