Page 47 of Skyshade
No. She still had nightmares about slipping off his back in the storm. Nearly hitting the ground. But Wraith looked so heartbreakingly excited that she sighed and allowed Grim to portal them both onto his spine. It was slippery with all the soap, but Grim pinned her in place with his shadows, called Wraith’s name, and they were off.
The flight was short, and the dragon began to tilt toward the ground as soon as the fields turned to forest. She knew what to expect by now and steadied herself for their landing. He curved, then plunged in the direction of a spring. Wind blew her hair back, roared in her ears, made her eyes water. Her muscles tightened as she braced herself.
Wraith’s wings flared out before they crashed right through a pond.
Isla gasped, and her lungs would have filled with water, if Grim’s translucent shadows weren’t still enveloping her. Only when he met her eyes, when he was sure she wasn’t still in shock, did he let them drop, and she was encased in water.
Wraith fell slowly, like a rock sinking down to the bottom. He rested there for just a moment, before kicking off, and surfacing.
Isla desperately sucked in air as they crashed through, water sputtering, and she turned to Grim, glare already in place.
His dark hair was stuck to his forehead. He didn’t seem to mind that he was soaked through, his cape a wet shadow across his shoulders.
Isla shoved him off Wraith’s back and had the pleasure of watching him crash into the water. Wraith turned his head to face Isla, and she could have sworn he was smiling.
She was smiling too, until a rope of shadows pulled her right in after him.
She would have sunk to the bottom, weighed down by all her daggers and sword, if it wasn’t for the arm that curled around her waist. Slowly, like he had all the time in the world, she felt Grim reach into the slits of her pants, long fingers expertly pulling out dagger after dagger, throwing star after throwing star, and tossing them all to the edge of the bank.
“How many blades does one person need?” he asked, incredulous, as his rough hands gently traced down her legs, fingers curling around her thighs, looking for more. Isla felt like she might be close to drowning again, for very different reasons.
“Several, when she’s married to a demon.”
He only grinned. She threw her sword to the bank herself, then shoved away from Grim, able to swim on her own.
“What is this place?” she asked. There was a thick waterfall falling into the deep body of water, reminding her, with a chill, of the augur’s home. Wraith was currently beneath it, clearly happy as the water hit his back, scrubbing off the soap.
“A pocket of beauty on Nightshade. A rare one.”
It had been a while since she had swum for leisure—and not when she thought she was dying. She liked it, the feeling of the water through the roots of her hair, the way it seemed to soothe her aching muscles as she pushed through it. The water was cold, but she didn’t really mind. By the time she pulled herself out of it, and onto the bank, she felt like she could roll over and fall asleep.
The grass was soft beneath her. The sun wasn’t strong, but it gradually warmed her skin. She was so relaxed she didn’t even try to move when Grim lay right beside her.
Her eyes were closed as he carefully and slowly slid every one of her knives back in place, fitting them against the curves of her body, in the pockets that were specially made for her, by him. She shivered, feeling his fingers brush up her thighs as he pushed them each in. He left her sword in her open palm. “In case you need to use it,” he said, dark voice skittering down her bones. She would have rolled her eyes if they were open.
She had just managed to drift to sleep, when a thousand droplets of water pelted her every inch.
“Wraith,” Grim growled, and she opened her eyes to find the dragon staring happily down at them, after having flapped his wet wings.
Wraith didn’t do anything but sink down into the grass. He rolled over, but Grim glared at him, refusing to rub his stomach.
The dragon turned to her.
“Traitorous creature,” Grim muttered.
Isla had to fight to hide her grin as she stood, and obliged Wraith, running her fingers down his scales as his talons happily scratched at the sky.
Wraith made joyful sounds, and she found herself smiling. Laughing. She hadn’t really realized it, until she turned, only to find Grim staring at her.
Her smile withered away, replaced by guilt. She didn’t deserve to be happy. She didn’t deserve to have this time to enjoy when so many lives were at risk.
“The storm is taking too long. There hasn’t been another storm in days,” she said. “There has to be another way to find the portal.”
Grim’s expression turned serious. “I’ve tried. I’ve visited any surviving elders. I’ve gone through all the ancient records; none speak ofa portal. I’ve flown across nearly every mile of Nightshade and haven’t felt even a whisper of my portaling power.”
She had tried too. The augur had been helpful in other ways, but their best bet was still Azul’s ring.
Isla sighed. Grim continued to watch her. There was a fold between his brows. He opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked...almost nervous.
