Page 7 of Skyshade
She watched him take down two daggers from his wall of creations. They looked ancient, their hilts covered in symbols she didn’t understand. And their blades...they shined brightly, more than they should have in their condition. Next to the fire, in the brightlight...the metal almost glimmered. He didn’t waste a moment before melting them down. Flames erupted from a device, filling the forge with heat.
Watching the blacksmith cast was mesmerizing. He worked expertly, diligently. Under his process, the strange metal changed color, before melting completely. It glittered brightly in its new form, like a bowl of stars. He didn’t use a mold. Somehow, he was able to pour the liquid metal into his hands, without burning them. Somehow, he was able to shape it himself. This was his power.
She suddenly regretted making a deal to kill him in a few months.
The metal began to harden beneath his fingers. Before it was set, he motioned for her to outstretch her hands. She did, wondering if she would be burned by the blistering material, but under his control, they did not touch her skin as he closed them around her wrists. With a sweeping of his fingers, the metal cooled completely.
Then, it was done.
“What is this metal?” she asked. It glimmered brightly under the light, like a thousand diamonds were trapped within.
“It’s shademade,” he said. “Made from ancient power.”
“They won’t break?”
He shook his head. “It is designed so that only the person who puts them on can release them. And me. My enchantments always have safeguards.”
Good. She wouldn’t be asking him to release them anytime soon, however. The moment the bracelets had closed around her wrists, her shoulders sagged with relief. Her eyes stung with unshed tears.
It was so...quiet. She had almost forgotten what her mind had been like, without having to constantly block out the endless connections waiting to be formed around her. It had worked.
Her power was gone.
Grim insisted on having dinner with her before they began working together. She rushed into the room several minutes late, only to find him sitting perfectly still at the end of the table, looking content to wait forever, if needed.
As soon as she entered, he stood, his eyes widening slightly, as if she was something to marvel at. He took in her dress—long and embedded with thousands of black beads. It had been waiting in her wardrobe. It seemed he had made good on his promise to hire a tailor for her, after he had ripped so many of her dresses apart. She wore it because it was expected. The last thing she needed was Grim’s court questioning her motives even more than they already did.
Grim didn’t look suspicious at all. He smiled.
Then his eyes caught on her bracelets.
“Hearteater,” he said carefully, his deep voice making her chest feel tight. “If you remember, there’s a closet of jewelry for you just off your quarters.” There was. It was filled with centuries’ worth of ancient gems, mostly featuring black diamonds. Not that any of those stones rivaled the one against her throat.
She ignored him and the ridiculous sparks spreading through her at something as simple as his voice as she walked to her seat opposite his own at the long table. They were both seated at the heads. It made for an impractical dinner. Now, as he continued to study her bracelets, she was grateful for the space between them.
Until Grim appeared at her side and gently took her wrist in his palm. He hissed, touching the metal. “What did you do, heart?”
“What I had to,” she said, turning her attention to the goblet of wine in front of her. It smelled slightly floral. She took a sip.
“You don’t have to hide yourself,” Grim said. “Not with me. Not here. Not ever.”
She wanted to tell him that she needed to hide most here, because despite hating him, she loved him, and that love had made her do horrible things.
She wanted to tell him that she remembered everything in vivid detail. Like the time they had forgone dinner entirely, and Grim had wrapped the room in shadows and laid her on this very table and—
Grim must have felt the shift in her emotions, because his eyes darkened. As though he too was remembering.
He eyed the side of the table, as if he could see the memory. As if he could taste it.
Isla swallowed, and his gaze shifted to her throat. Her necklace suddenly felt very heavy against it, though it had rarely bothered her before. Her skin prickled on instinct, and—
“You visited the blacksmith.” His words interrupted her thoughts.
She didn’t deny it. Grim only frowned, then returned to his seat across the table.
They ate in silence. The meal was perfect; he had purposefully ensured her favorite foods were made—charred vegetables, spiced grains, buttered potatoes. Still, she didn’t say a word, and it was up to Grim to break the tension.
“Your leopard bit the gardener,” he said. At night, Lynx slept with Isla; but that day, she had let him roam free.
