Page 86 of Skyshade
She nodded down at her cape, which was lined in fur and the softest fabric she had ever known. Her dress was made of thick wool. Beneath it she wore soft tights and boots that went up to her knees. “Not so much when I’m dressed for it.”
No one paid them much attention as they walked through the village, and Isla knew Grim had disguised them with his power. Children played in the snow, their cheeks pink, their words coming out in clouds. Shops featured pastries and licorice in their windows.
“I used to steal those, when I was a child,” Grim said, nodding at the candy.
She glanced at him. “Villainous from your first breath.”
“Precisely.” He looked thoughtfully at the shop. “My father didn’t allow candy, or games, or anything he thought would make me weak. My guardians were good at enforcing his wishes.” He shrugged. “But I discovered my flair at a young age. When they thought I was sleeping, I was here, stealing candy, and watching the other kids play.”
She tried to imagine a child Grim. Messy black hair, pale face. Alone.
It was exactly what she had done with her starstick, once she had discovered its ability. Grim’s power—even though he hadn’t known it at the time—had provided them both with an escape.
“When I was old enough to be trusted with money, I walked into the store, dropped a pile of coin on the counter, and walked out.”
“Enough to pay for all the licorice?” she asked, looking up at him.
“Enough to pay for the shop, if I wanted.”
She pulled his hand. “Let’s go, then.” He started to refuse, but then he gave up, and let her lead him inside.
“One of each,” Isla said at the counter, and Grim chuckled behind her, remembering when he had said the exact same words at the Centennial. When they were brought a pile of different flavored strands, he sighed and stared at her over the table.
“This was much more charming with chocolate,” he said.
“Yes,” she agreed, nodding her head solemnly. “It wasn’t at all alarming that the villainous Nightshade was feeding me chocolates.”
A smile played on his lips. “You liked it.”
“Of course, I liked it,” she said, grabbing one of the licorice strings. “It’s chocolate.” She motioned at him. “Now, should we get started?”
Isla watched Grim take a bite, and his eyes closed as he slowly chewed. A smile almost crept across his face. “It tastes exactly the same,” he said, disbelieving. “Centuries later, and it hasn’t changed.”
She chewed on a piece, and it was fine—it wasn’t chocolate. But seeing the joy it brought Grim made her love it.
They took the rest wrapped in paper for later. Then the real fun started. She found a shop that sold clothes and pushed Grim into a changing room. “What are you doing?” he demanded.
“I’ll get options,” she said. “You can try them on.”
He looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “I’m not changing in a store,” he said, as if the idea was ridiculous.
“Fine,” Isla said, throwing her hands up. “You’ll just have to buy options without knowing how they look. You might not end up getting anything you like.”
Grim looked exasperated. He turned to the shop-owner, handed her a mountainous stack of coin, and said, “One of each.”
“You’re leering at me again,” Grim said.
She really was.
He was wearing a soft, long-sleeved black shirt and casual pants. No cape. No boots. No spiked armor.
Just him.
Something about that was doing strange things to her composition.
For her part, she felt like she had made an outfit from a cloud. She wore one of Grim’s new sweaters, like butter against her skin and deliciously oversized, and a thicker version of the tights he had brought her.
Most of her life, she had either worn dresses with bodices that cut off her air supply, or armor that weighed her down like an extra layer of gravity. Only recently had she known the comfort of thick, smooth fabrics against a cold night.
