Page 1 of Skyshade
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Isla Crown watched the man she loved disappear as the world fell away.
The other man she loved gripped her arm with the desperate hope of holding onto a dream before waking. Her stomach dropped; her ears rang—
Clashing swords and howling dreks turned to silence.
“You’re home,” Grim said, his voice breaking in relief; and then she was ensnared in the familiar place against his chest, her cheek below his heart. It was instinct to breathe him in, to hold him close.
Home. Something in her marrow unfurled.
Another part recoiled.
She tore herself away. Looked down. Her armor and hands were covered in blood. Her lips tasted of salt—sweat and tears from the battle.
She considered everything she had done...everything she was...
She wanted to run. She wanted to tear down these hallways the same way she had the first day they met, she wanted to portal back to Lightlark, back into Oro’s arms—
But she was here for a reason. Isla would kill either Oro or Grim, according to the oracle. It was fated. Now, knowing what she had done in the past, all the people she had killed...she didn’t trust herself not to hurt the Sunling king.
Grim approached her slowly, tentatively. His voice was gentle. “Heart.” He offered his hand again, his knuckles raw and caked in what had to be both his and Oro’s blood.
Heart. Hers was split in half. One part wanted him more than anything—remembered. Another wanted to stab him through the chest again.
She took his hand.
Grim’s wide shoulders melted in relief until she said, “Take methere.”
He knew what she meant. As much as she wanted to hate him, as much as she wished her hatred of him would stick, take root in her bones and overgrow like a neglected garden, he knew her. He really knew her. “Isla—”
“Take. Me. There.” Her voice was a guttural rasp. She could have portaled herself with her device or with his power, but the idea of using any scrap of ability after seeing what she had done with it made her want to retch. Grim studied her for a moment longer before curling his fingers around hers, and then the room disappeared. Her stomach flipped again.
Ash stuck to every surface of the landscape, a layer of poisoned snow. Houses lay in charred piles like pyre wood. Nothing stood tall anymore. The village had been brought to its knees.
Her cry cut through the silence like a scythe. Bodies big and small curled against the ground and hardened into rubble. Some were indefinable shapes against the stone.
You did this, a voice in her mind said. Monster.
No. She hadn’t meant to, she—
Memories flitted beneath her eyelashes. She saw herself visiting this site, mourning the same action in the past. It hurt. It hurt so much; she was a wound that refused to scab. She wanted to bleed. She deserved to bleed. Still, her pain meant nothing—these people were dead because of her.
Because of her power.
She turned to Grim, eyes burning. “You should imprison me. I—I’m a criminal. I’m worse than any thief or murderer, I—” Grim caught her as she began to collapse.
“This was not intentional,” he said, steadying her shoulders.
She choked on her breath. “Does intention matter when hundreds of people are dead?”
His eyes were sad. “It does.”
She tore herself away from him. “You would say that. Of course, you would say that.”
Tears caught in the back of her throat as she thought back to the battle on Lightlark, blood everywhere, dreks shredding the sky with their talons. Ciel dying, Avel cradling her twin’s body. “They didn’t have to die.” A sob scraped against her ribs. “Why, Grim? Why did you have to attack?”
“You know why.” His words were quiet. He stepped closer, but she walked back, refusing to bridge the gap between them.
