Page 158 of Grim and Oro
If I’m right ... Grim didn’t create the curses. Someone else did, using the heart. And it makes me wonder about that flicker of truth when he told me he didn’t.
It’s the only reason I sent an invitation. He could have shown up at any of the Centennials, if he had wanted, but this time, I invited him personally.
It’s the only reason my friends are speaking his name, which they have cursed for centuries.
It doesn’t mean I still don’t despise him. For even if he didn’t spin the curses ... I’ll never forget the hint of lie in his words when he denied being responsible. Somehow, he was involved. After everything—our history, ourfriendship—his actions, inadvertently or not, led to my island becoming a husk of itself. To my brother dying. And that is enough for me to hate him forever.
And perhaps I hate myself more than I hate even him, for ever trusting him at all. For ever thinking we could becomefriends. If I didn’t ... perhaps things might be different.
“Then I hope he comes,” Calder says.
None of us say it, but we agree.
We have this talk before every Centennial. “Well, then,” Zed says. “If the cursesarebroken, chances are one of us ...”
One or more of us will die.
One of the rulers must die to break them—it’s part of the prophecy. Because of our connection to our people and lack of heirs, it also means the end of an entire realm.
“None of us are dying,” I say, willing the words to be true.
If one realm does perish, we all know whose it must be. Grimshaw. Nightshade. But he can only die if he accepts the invitation. Only a fool would.
Only a fool would walk into near-certain death.
REUNION
Grim Malvere, it seems, is a fool. Or extraordinarily overconfident in his own abilities.
Either way ... he actually came.
I should be relieved to see the Nightshade step onto the cliff. Most of me is. Part of me would be fine not seeing him for the rest of my life, even if he didn’t cast the curses. He—
Another ruler arrives.
Wildling. Her long, ridiculously sheer dress makes that obvious. I sigh, remembering the string of Wildlings I’ve had to deal with over the centuries. All of them with the same plan—to try to seduce me into loving them, so they can have access to my power. Will hers be the same?
Don’t even bother, I want to tell her.I won’t even look at you twice.
It’s not entirely their faults. They don’t know I can see their advances as a lie. Perhaps without my flair, their efforts wouldn’t be so obvious.
As if I have time for something as selfish aslove.
As if any of us do.
As ifshewould be the one to capture my notice anyway.
It may not be fair to the Wildling, but it’s hard not to look at her and immediately think of Violet, the ancestor she never even knew. The day of the curses, I vowed to never fall in love. Love made even my brother into a fool.
Wildling rulers have only led to trouble. As my eyes follow her from my vantage point in one of the castle’s towers, I determine to stay as far away from her as possible.
Her green cape curls in the wind as she takes a step—and nearly falls right off the cliff. My hands press against the window’s glass in shock, careful to stay in the shade a few overhead clouds offer.
Grim’s hand juts out, keeping her steady. Keeping her alive.
I blink. Why save her? I wouldn’t put it beyond him to push her off himself.
Then I remember Ara. Him saving her, without question. Him telling me he was done with death ...
