Oh.
Somehow, Isla hadn’t put together thattheywould be dueling. She had been too distracted by Celeste’s battle.
She didn’t move a muscle, watching the center of the arena as Grim reached behind him for a broadsword thicker than her thigh.
Her throat was suddenly too dry. Grim chose the matches. This was his demonstration. He must have paired them together for a reason.
A theory formed in her head, pieces coming together. They were the only two rulers without their people present. The two most hated. Did he purposefully match them to show his superiority over her? To make sure, from the very first demonstration, that the island rooted forhimover her?
Celeste was right. She couldn’t trust him.
“Go,”her friend whispered sharply, suddenly at her side.
Right. Isla stepped into the exposed center on legs that weren’t as steady as they had been a few minutes before.
Not one person cheered. When Isla’s sword knocked into the metal plating her long boots, feeling uncharacteristically off-kilter, the sound was projected through the silence.
Get yourself together,she told herself, thinking of her training. Of Terra.
The Nightshade might be plotting against her. All she could do was ensure his plan was foiled before it even began.
With a steadying breath, Isla drew her weapon and took her stance. It was second nature, like tumbling into sleep or taking a breath. The only time she ever felt like she had a whisper of power. Part of her still wanted to cower. But Isla knew how to handle a blade better than a quill.
The bell rang out, loud and clear.
Grim struck first.
Isla twirled to the side, fast as the wind. His blade met air. She pivoted on her heel and aimed for his chest.
Grim was too quick. He dodged the blow, then struck again, only for his blade to meet hers. Her arm shook for a moment from the sheer strength of it. Quickly, she regained her balance and slid her sword right down his, the metal against metal making her wince, slicing through the room.
His eyes widened in surprise as he shot backward, barely missing the tip of her blade.
See? Maybe you should have chosen a different opponent,she thought.
“You’re feeling confident, Hearteater,” Grim purred. He advanced, and she blocked his blow. Tried again, only to meet steel. For a few stumbling, dizzying seconds, their blades met over and over and over,touching, skimming, clashing. Somehow, he was at her ear. “Tell me, how will you feel when you lose?”
She swallowed and whipped around—then ducked, air shooting out of her nostrils as he went for her neck. And barely missed.Too close.
She shot up and forward, one arm completely outstretched, the other tight behind her back. She was light as a dandelion on her feet but strong as the steel of her blade with every advance. It was a part of her, a fifth limb, a beautiful, gleaming thing. Each of her motions was faster than the last as she slipped into her rhythm, her flow. Her dance. She felt the room like she was barefoot, the air like it was electric. A growl sounded from the back of her throat as she pushed Grim farther down the arena, toward its wall, at the crowd sitting high above.
His mouth was a line as he focused; she could have sworn a bead of sweat shot down his temple.
“You’re feeling surprised,Grim,”she said, her voice deep and raspy.
His eyes were fierce, no gleam in them anymore.
Isla grinned, spun fast as a maelstrom to gather more strength, and struck like a cobra—so hard that Grim stumbled, just the slightest bit.
It was all she needed. She leaped off the floor with a warrior’s cry and landed right in front of him, pinning him to the wall.
Her blade was at his throat.
His clattered to the ground.
She was panting, right in his face. He was looking at her like he hadn’t ever seen her before.
“Everyone seems to forget,” she said, not breaking his gaze, even though it meant tilting her head. They were both panting, their chests flush with every breath. “That Wildlings are, above all, warriors.” Isla might not have had powers. And she might have been trapped like a bird in a cage her entire life because of it. But she could fight as well as any ruler—Terra had made sure of that. She dropped the blade from his throat.
