Page 141 of Grim and Oro
“Thank you for your apology. But getting out of my face would be preferable.”
I can tell we’re done for today. I give him what he wants.
ENEMIES
I walk into a previously abandoned floor we’ve overtaken as our own, to find my friends there. They’re seated on a mismatched assortment of the most comfortable couches Zed could steal from various parts of the castle. We each have our favorite chair. Zed is currently sitting in mine. “Let’s go swimming.”
They look shocked. Probably because I’ve never been the one to propose night swimming in my life. Even though it’s one of my friends’ favorite things to do.
“It’s the Nightshade, isn’t it?” Zed says, looking amused. “He got you wound up.”
No use in denying it. I just scowl. “Consider yourselves lucky that none of you have my flair. I don’t think I’ve met such a miserable person in my entire life.”
“Now then. Don’t disrespect your father so soon after his death,” Zed says.
There’s a moment of silence.
We all burst into laughter. It feels wrong, but also right, to be finallylaughing. How long has it been since we’ve all laughed together like this?
Enya hops to her feet. “Oro’s decided he’s a good time. Let’s get going before he starts frowning again.”
I give her a look, and she just loops her arm in mine. “You’ve been a little miserable yourself, you have to admit.”
She’s joking, but I scowl, remembering the Nightshade’s insistence on how similar we are.
Enya notices. She squeezes my arm. “You have a reason to be miserable. We all do.” I remind myself I’m not the only person who lost someone close to them. And I’m not the only one grieving my mother. “Tonight though ... let’s just forget. For a few hours.”
We leave the castle. On our way down to the beaches, I think about all our reasons to be upset. To be angry. Grim has those reasons too.
He didn’t have a mother. His fatherkilledher.
I remember the weight of the power in my chest—how it felt when I fought to control it ... how it felt like I was teetering on the edge of two fates—burning the world down ... or keeping it whole.
My mother is the one who kept me on the right path. Who reminded me I was loved, and why this world is beautiful and worth saving to begin with.
What would I have turned into, if my father had killed my mother, before I experienced that love?
Who would I have become, without my mother’s guidance?
Who would I be without my friends? Without Egan? Without all the people I care about, and who care about me? Each of them has helped me find light, even in crushing darkness.
Rage has often turned me into someone I don’t recognize. I wonder if Grim’s right. If a few turns of fate could have made me into exactly what he is.
I shake the thought away as I enter the water after my friends. As foaming waves overtake us. As Calder creates ice floats for us to lie on, shivering, at Enya’s instance.
I refuse to feel empathy for my enemy.
Grimshaw’s head is still down as his voice, made gravelly from thirst, echoes through the cell. I haven’t even turned the corner, yet he can sense my presence. “Ivon Wolf.”
I frown. “What?”
“Ivon Wolf.” He finally looks up. Blood has crusted down his mouth. The prisoner isn’t supposed to be touched—but it seems the guards haven’t kept their orders. “Two hundred and seven years old. Three daughters. A wife pregnant with a fourth. Taller than either of us and could whistle any note.”
“Why—”
“Alinor Frey. Expert swordswoman. Husband of four centuries. Familiar with every type of metalwork.”
He continues. He rattles off dozens of names. Characteristics. Without breaking eye contact.
