Page 46 of Skyshade
How did Aurora get her hands on an object from the otherworld in the first place? “Are objects from the otherworld common here?”
“No. Most were destroyed over the millennia, or stripped of their enchantment by me, following orders.” He took the blade from his belt, then positioned it beneath an orb of light. She watched as the metal glimmered, as if a thousand stars were trapped within it. “Here. This is how you can always tell what is shademade. What is otherworldly.”
She took the feather back. She knew she should have put it back in the drawer. Forgotten about it. Burn it, maybe.
She didn’t.
Isla stared at the writing for days. She kept the scrap of it in her pocket, alongside the golden rose necklace.
Hello Isla.
Words, from her former best friend. The one she had killed.
Part of her wanted to reply, and longed to speak to her friend the way she had for years, confiding in her every time she had felt alone.
“Celeste doesn’t exist,” she told herself, as she rode across Nightshade on Lynx’s back. “You need to remember that.”
Lynx made a sound beneath her, as if he could sense her inner turmoil. She stroked the top of his head. In flashes, she was seeing his perspective, the land rippling before him. Then, there were pieces of something else. His own lost friend.
Her mother.
She saw her in his memories. Laughing, in a forest. Turning around in a circle, making flowers bloom in a torrent around her. As Lynx tore across the island beneath her, she watched, and she couldn’t get enough.
Isla saw her own room. It looked slightly different than it did now. There were no swords against the wall. There was no paint across the glass of the greenhouse. No, her mother hadn’t had a reason to hide. She had been born powerful. From what she could see, she was a skilled wielder.
Did she have a flair? She watched, waiting to see something out of the ordinary, but all she saw was nature.
Then, she caught a glimpse of her father. Dark hair. Pale skin. She watched him look at Lynx, but from his view, it was almost like he was looking at her. She felt a tear slide down her cheek.
He showed her something else. A flash of golden hair. Amber eyes.
Her grip on his furs tightened.
Lynx had always liked Oro. She had worked to bury any memory of him down; but just as Aurora had written, all that is buried eventually rises.
Isla should have moved her hand—should have told Lynx to stop—but she didn’t. She watched greedily, remembering Oro’s smile, the way it made tiny crinkles form next to his eyes. The way those eyes would glimmer when he was happy, like sun sparkling atop water.
She watched their first kiss, when he had pinned her against the tree. She heard Lynx’s low growl, stopping them as Oro’s hands ran up her sides. She heard them both laugh. For a single moment she felt that happiness, as if she was there. As if she had been portaled into the past.
The images stopped as quickly as they had started.
They had reached the stables, and Lynx made a huff of annoyance.
Wraith. He was outside his stable with Grim, who looked to be at the end of washing his scales.
Face still flushed from the memories, she cleared her throat. Worked to bury her feelings again. “I’m surprised you don’t give someone else the pleasure of bathing a full-grown dragon.”
Grim sighed as he put the giant sponge he had been using back in a bucket. Wraith was covered in soap and bubbles. Isla didn’t think the tubs of water used for the other animals would be even remotely helpful.
“He only allows me to do it. Temperamental creature,” he muttered. Wraith only grinned down at Isla and Lynx.
Isla watched her bonded consider the dragon, unimpressed. He didn’t care for him, not really. She smoothed the space between his ears with her hand, sending images to him. Wraith as the tiny bundleof scales she had discovered limping near the cave. Wraith in her arms, his wings tucked tightly against his body.
Lynx’s muscles relaxed a bit beneath her. Isla slid off his back and watched Lynx and Wraith regard each other for a few moments longer, Wraith far more excited. Then, Lynx turned away with a huff, in the direction of the dried meats the stableman had begun offering him, to try to curry his favor.
Isla watched as the soap on Wraith began to fizzle. “How do you plan on washing him off?”
Grim glanced over at her. “Care to see for yourself?”
