He needed to live.
She walked until her legs burned, until her breath was hot against her lips. Until Oro’s skin began to cool, the unmistakable Sunling heat dying down.
Just as her knees threatened to buckle, the dirt softened beneath her boots. And the roaring of the stream was in front of her.
Her legs nearly collapsed with relief. She pushed him into the water with all her remaining strength. He seized for a moment before falling still.
She worried it was too late. But the water seemed to know him. It glowed faintly and got to work. He began to sink, but she kept his head out of the water. She held him firmly by the shoulders, the back of his head in her lap, the rest of him deep below.
His sleeves were rolled back. The grayish blue he had shown them before had spread. A lot. It now covered his entire left arm, down to his hand. Was this why the cut had weakened him so quickly? Why the ballroom had broken in half during the ball?
Isla stayed like that, gripping him, her legs in the cold stream, for a long while. Waiting. Waiting for the island to begin to crumble around her, like it had at the ball. For trees to fall. For Oro to stop breathing.
The water worked intently, all through the night. Slowly, slowly, the slice across his neck knitted together, new skin replacing the broken shreds. The blood on her dried. She could feel it on her cheek, smell it in her hair, but didn’t dare wash it off. She just kept holding Oro.
And waiting.
She must have drifted off, because her head knocked against her shoulder. Her spine straightened, and fear gripped her chest.Had she let him go?
No. There he was. She hadn’t let him slip. His wound was nearly healed.
Still, his eyes remained closed.
A stream of light had begun peeking through the trees. The first dewy, honeyed tinge of day. Isla’s first thought was that this was good. Maybe the heat would be good for him, maybe he could draw upon its strength ...
Dread stabbed her through the stomach.
The curse.
She had to get him inside. If the sword hadn’t killed him, the sun would. And the water wouldn’t be able to heal him from that.
“Oro,” she said, shaking him.
He didn’t move.
“Oro,” she yelled into his ear. “The sun’s coming up. We have to go.”
His eyes did not open.
Light had almost found them. It made lazy lines across the forest, peeking through the trees. Day had almost broken open.
He was going to die. She was going to watch him burst into flames, the same way, using her starstick, she had watched a child burn to ash in the Sunling realm, years before, helpless—
No.
Not helpless.
She spotted an opening in a mountain twenty feet away. A cave.
Isla didn’t know if they would make it inside before the king became fire. She had no idea how she was going to get him there.
But she gripped beneath both of his shoulders and pulled.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
THE CAVE
It was midday by the time the king finally opened his eyes. Isla was curled against a corner of the cave, watching him. Still covered in his blood.
