Page 166 of Grim and Oro
“Stand there,” she orders. I should be outraged or at least irritated, but I’m too shocked to do anything other than obey.
She drops my hand and crosses the room. Using clumsy fingers, she sheds her rings, then removes her gloves. She fetches a pin from her hair, and a tendril comes loose, falling across her cheek. I shouldn’tbe watching so closely. I shouldn’t be admiring how the light hits her hair to reveal darker shades and a few golden strands.
What is wrong with me?
If I wasn’t distracted, I would have immediately seen that the pin isn’t a pin at all—but a throwing star. A weapon. I blink—again, feeling that strange mix of awe and anger.
The Wildling has the nerve to take me in the center of the room and point a weapon at me. Her nerve almost makes me smile.
The crowd is outraged. I can hear their whispers, feel the heat of their fury.
“I didn’t realize you came to dinnersarmed, Wildling,” Cleo says, but I barely hear her voice.
I’m focused solely on Isla’s lips as she says, “I’m always armed.” And it feels that way. It feels as if there’s an invisible noose around my neck right at this moment. Our gazes don’t break; it’s like we’re the only two people in this room, on this island, in this world.
She takes the throwing star between her teeth, and I swallow. Then she ties one of her gloves over her eyes. The crowd gasps, but I don’t move a muscle. I’ve been indifferent, frozen and unfeeling for so long, but right now, there is a heat burning inside of me. Fury. Hope. Curiosity like a flame I can’t extinguish.
She takes the star from between her teeth.
I watch her assume a stance that looks natural, like she’s done it a thousand times before. Of course. Wildlings are warriors. She’s likely been trained since she was a child.
She isn’t using ability in her demonstration, and ... that’s different. Brave, I suppose. Defiant. Many can expertly wield power. Few can expertly wield metal. In a way, she’s demonstrating her superiority over some of the rulers sitting at the long table before her. She doesn’t need her abilities to show her strength.
I have the strange and unsettling need to see every shred of that strength—every length she will go to prove herself.
Because she isn’t weak. Not like the foolish nobles think.Show them, I want to say, even though it’s madness.
Show me.
Show me what you’ve got.
The star is a flash of silver in my vision, and I don’t wince as it flies right toward my head.
And knocks the crown off it.
The corner of my lips turns into a smile she never sees.
The crowd gasps, some in horror, some in amazement. I hear one of the rulers behind me stand from the table, their chair scraping against the stone floor.
I watch as she pushes the fabric from her eyes. As those green eyes fill with pride.
As they fill with fire.
And it’s as if I can’t move. She has me rooted in place, staring into green eyes like they are a maze I wouldn’t mind getting lost in. Like they are woods I could wander for hours. Her eyes are gleaming, like a forest on fire, and I watch and watch, ready to be swept up in her blaze.
It’s been centuries since I’ve seen someone so determined. Someone whose fire hasn’t been extinguished by this cruel world.
She smirks.
And that contempt for my crown, it should make my blood boil, but it doesn’t. At least, not in the way she likely intended.
She’s strutting toward me, her stride full of confidence. She slowly bends down to lift my crown.
“You dropped this,” she whispers, so only I can hear it, and her voice slinks down my spine. Makes me swallow. I take it from her, hardly registering its weight in my hand. My skin is aflame, but not from anger. No, from something far more dangerous.
When it’s my turn to demonstrate, I don’t even think before I wield my power. I feel thawed. Memories and feelings from centuries before are rushing back all at once.
I feel melted down.
