Page 48 of Skyshade
“What is it?” she demanded.
“Would you marry me?”
Her look was withering. With the hand that wasn’t still scratching Wraith’s stomach, she lifted the stone at her neck, and let it thud between her collarbones. “Didn’t we already do that?”
“My people believe you’re a traitor. Your display with Tynan didn’t exactly disprove that point.”
Her eyes flashed with anger. Her stomach swirled with panic, remembering everything she had overheard. “He tried to assassinate me.”
His gaze mirrored hers in intensity. “I know,” he said, standing. His height was surprising, even now. “And he deserved to be eaten by those snakes while he was still drawing breath. But discontent and suspicion continue to spread to the people. It grows and grows, like a weed. An uprising would only hurt us all.” He sighed.
Grim, she had to admit, was right. “Fine. What do you propose?”
“A wedding.”
She remembered their first. It had been small—only Astria there as a witness. Isla had worn an embroidered dress that told their story—nature meeting shadow. Life melting into darkness. She’d had flowers in her hair.
“How in the world would that help? Your court hates me.”
“They doubt your commitment to me. To us. Some are convinced you’re a spy from Lightlark.” She watched him, wondering if he ever had that fear. If he ever doubted her motivations. “A ceremony wouldshow a unified front. The people of Nightshade are removed from the ongoings of the palace. They only hear rumor, and they are suffering. Everyone still feels the effects of the storm. A distraction—even for a few hours—would benefit everyone.”
“Fine,” she said, even as her stomach twisted. Marrying him once was one thing. Twice? If news of another wedding reached Oro, what would he think? He would hate her.
Good, she thought, with a bite of sadness. She didn’t deserve him. Loving him would ruin him, if she let it. He needed to forget her.
“We’ll have a wedding.”
HEARTRIPPER
Isla dreamed of snakes slithering across her skin. She dreamed of drowning in them. She dreamed of them wrapping around her throat—
She awoke panting. Lynx’s green eyes glowed through the darkness, watching her warily. Her head was pulsing, feverish.
Follow the snakes...
It was still dark outside. She hadn’t planned on visiting the town, but she grabbed her daggers and slipped on her clothes.
Waiting for the storm had made her restless. The augur had said she would be back to his cave—that it had been written.
She didn’t yet know the right questions to ask, but she figured it wouldn’t hurt to pay in advance for his services. That was what she told herself, anyway, as she prowled the streets night after night. It was easier than admitting that she got a twisted sort of satisfaction in seeing the life leave the eyes of those she had seen hurt others. That with every kill...something inside of her was growing. And there was never a shortage of people to hunt down. Even as she killed the worst in society, over and over, more seemed to take their place, like relentless weeds.
She had a favorite perch, a rooftop where she could get a wide view of the city. That night, she found something waiting for her. A piece of fruit, and a pastry. It was warm in her hands. Buttery in her fingers. Still, she didn’t eat it. It could be poisoned.
The next night was the same. Another offering.
The following evening, she arrived early, and waited on a different rooftop. She watched a woman climb up the stairs inside thebuilding and leave the gifts. She recognized her clothes. She was the woman Isla had saved.
Tonight, the gift was some sort of pie. It smelled of potatoes and meat and herbs, and even as her stomach growled in hunger, she didn’t eat it. The woman had seemed kind...but she couldn’t trust anyone.
She watched the streets for hours. It was quiet, so she made her way down to walk, sticking to the shadows. She made five right turns in a row, in a useless circle.
That was how she knew someone was following her. She could hear their footsteps splashing the puddles between misaligned stones in the road, just a few yards behind. Whoever it was, they weren’t skilled at stalking. They were clumsy, and careless.
Satisfaction rooted deep within her. She figured one of these days a friend of one of those men she had killed would come after her. Her skin buzzed with excitement as she climbed up the gutter of a building and waited. Once they turned into the alley, she pounced, jumping from the rooftop.
She nearly had her blade against her stalker’s throat, when she realized she knew them.
The woman who had been leaving her gifts. She had pale skin, freckles, and curly dark red hair that she wore up in pins.
