Page 54 of Skyshade
“The storm,” she said with all the confidence she could muster. “It’s our best chance at finding the portal.”
It was true. They had waited weeks for this moment. Her thumb fidgeted with Azul’s ring. An energy coursed through it, the storm inside gently swirling.
Grim was silent long enough for her to peer over her shoulder at him. He was staring at her.
She knew him, so she could see the slight disappointment in his expression, the hint of sadness. “What?”
He tilted his head at her, ever so slightly. “I’m just wishing you didn’t feel the need to keep so many secrets from me.”
Her limbs went boneless. Feelings spilled through her, unchecked—surprise, and guilt, and fear. She knew he could feel them. Knew it was useless to say, in a voice like it was dragged out of her, “What secrets?”
Did Grim somehow know about the king in her room? Or the prophecy?
She felt the sudden need to run, though she didn’t know how. She had forgotten her starstick back in Grim’s room.
Just when she nearly lost her grip on Wraith’s ridges, palms slick with sweat, he said, “You went to see the augur.”
Relief filled her—and was almost immediately replaced with wariness. “How do you know that?”
His eyes narrowed at her. “You’re dying. You don’t think I’ve been trying to find every way possible to save you?”
Right.
She should have known—should have expected that the same man who had waged a war to save her wouldn’t simply accept her fate.
She should have been relieved that he was pursuing an avenue to save her and Nightshade that didn’t end in Lightlark’s destruction. Instead, all she felt was worry. How much had the augur told him?
“And?”
Grim dropped her gaze, then. He was looking below at the dark clouds that had begun to gather. His jaw tightened. “As I suspected, the only chance at permanently saving you is the otherworld.”
She knew her death was imminent...but it didn’t make it burn less to hear it said. Only a few months of winter remained. Every day was colder. Would she ever feel the heat of summer again?
“Reconsider,” Grim said, meeting her eyes again. His voice was firm. Desperate, even.
“What?”
“Using the portal on Lightlark.” He leaned toward her. He let go of Wraith with one hand and reached toward her cheek. His fingers were trembling and cold against her skin, so at odds with Oro’s heat. “Reconsider. Let us go through it. Let—let me save you.” His voice broke on the words. It seemed supremely difficult for him to hold back on simply taking her to Lightlark right now and carrying her through the portal himself.
But he was listening to her. He was respecting her wishes. He was trying.
Her eyes stung as she shook her head. No matter how much she wanted to live—truly live, with freedom her position would neverallow—she wouldn’t doom thousands to death, just to save herself. “I can’t. I—”
Her skin prickled. The wind shifted into a different pitch, a sharp sound that made her wince. Something in her body seemed to sing, pulled toward a force she couldn’t see. Her scalp felt sensitive, the metal of her bracelets trembled against her pulse. Grim lurched forward, as if to shield her, just before the skies around them shattered.
Her breath was knocked out of her lungs as she was thrown against Grim’s chest. He caught her with a hand around her waist as Wraith was flung back by a gust of wind that seemed intent on shooting them down.
The sky had gone that strange shade again—green and purple whorls formed around them. Her ears rang. She fought to breathe.
Something hit her in the arm. Her blood was hot against her frozen skin.
“Something’s wrong. We’re leaving,” Grim said.
Her words came out raw. “No! It’s our only—” She cut off sharply as her leg was sliced, down to her ankle, right through her clothes. Impossible. Her pants were made of fabric that was supposed to be nearly impenetrable.
“Enough of this.” Grim extended his hand, to portal them away.
Nothing happened.
