Page 75 of Skyshade
“Oh, yeah,” Astria said. “There’s a Starling writer from the last century whose works were smuggled in a few decades ago. Guess by who?” She smiled mischievously. “There are a few books by Nightshade writers as well, but many of them...well, many...” She made a face like she was vomiting.
“Many what?”
She snorted. “Many are about the ruler. Not by name, of course. But you can tell. The main characters are all tall, dark-haired, broody, powerful. It’s ridiculous how many women are in love with him.” She laughed, then stopped short, seeming to remember she was speaking to Grim’s wife. She cleared her throat. “Sorry.”
Isla didn’t care, though she would love to see the look on Grim’s face when he found out his library housed fantasies about him. She would likely wake up the next morning to the library aflame. She smiled at the thought of it.
Then her joy wilted. Lately, happiness seemed like flowers that withered before she could pluck them for herself.
She wished the book in front of her were a mystery or romance. Instead, she had been flipping through a multi-century look at how the curses had impacted society on Nightshade, hoping to find any mention of skyres. In summary: negatively.
Isla looked up at Astria, who had gone back to eating her nuts, and realized one of her greatest resources might have been right in front of her all along.
She wouldn’t ask her about the skyres; no, she couldn’t, not when her cousin was loyal to Grim. He couldn’t find out she was looking for something that would eat at her soul...but the augur had mentioned figuring out her history. When you learn the truth of who you are, your path will become clear.
Perhaps the answers she was looking for were somehow related to her parents.
“My father.”
Astria slowed her chewing. “What about him?”
What about him? She started with the little she knew. He was one of the few non-rulers in history born with a flair. “How did he discover he was immune to curses?”
Astria rolled the shell of a nut between her fingers. A smile tugged at the side of her mouth, before melting back into a frown. “It was an accident. He fell asleep outside or something, and woke up to the stars. Realized the night didn’t kill him.”
“Was he interested in curses? Given he was immune to them?”
Astria nodded. “He would talk about the other realms’ curses for hours. He pitied the Starlings. And, of course, the Wildlings.” She looked pensive. “He envied Grim’s flair, though. Always wanted to travel. Always wondered what was beyond our borders.”
“Do you have a flair?”
She shook her head. “No. Just good at killing.” She grinned, then continued to chew her snack. “You know...” she said after a while, then trailed off, her voice cautious, as if she hadn’t yet decided whether to finish her sentence. Whatever interest she found in Isla’s face seemed to convince her, because she continued, “Your father. He liked maps.”
“Maps?”
She nodded. “You won’t find many here, in this library. Exploration was nearly impossible during the curses. Couldn’t really keep an entire crew below deck in the middle of the sea all night, right? But your father...he searched them out. From before the curses. Collected them. Started making his own.”
“Why?”
Astria lifted a shoulder. “Who knows why he did anything he did? He always wanted to leave. He was great in his role, but he hated it. Even I saw it, and I was far younger.” She was looking beyond Islanow, as if ensnared by a memory. “When your father was eight, he built a boat out of driftwood and tried to set sail at the castle cove.” She huffed. “The idiot didn’t realize how big the waves were; he really thought that he could make it. No one could come rescue him, because he did it in the middle of the night, thinking it was best chance of getting away. My poor aunt sobbed at the window, watching him holding on to the boat for dear life, nearly drowning. The waves eventually washed him ashore. He was sent to training not long after.”
Isla swallowed, finding her throat dry. Her father had been desperate to see outside the world he had been born into. Just like her.
“Do you have any of them?” she asked quietly, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice.
“The maps?”
Isla nodded.
“They should all still be in his room. It’s untouched. He lived in the castle once he became Grim’s general, but he only ever kept his most personal items in his own home.”
Isla nodded, lazily paging through the useless tome in front of her, waiting for Astria to leave. After a few more minutes of conversation, she did, and Isla wasted no time falling through her puddle of stars, into her family’s castle.
According to the Wildlings at the entrance, the main bedroom was on the top floor of the keep. Isla made her way up the stairs, speaking to a few of her people. They seemed more somber than usual; Terra and Poppy’s imprisonment hadn’t gone over well.
A few more women passed her on her way, and then she was alone, facing the last door in the hall, the only room on this side of the floor. Isla quickly realized why it had been left untouched.
The door didn’t have a handle.
