She teetered to the side. An arm reached out to steady her.
“Open your eyes,” a voice said, dark and striking as midnight.
Isla hadn’t even realized they were closed. With a blink, the world stumbled then steadied, this portaling far worse than using her starstick.
The face belonging to the man looking down at her was amused. And familiar, somehow. He was so tall Isla had to tilt her chin to meet his eyes, black as coals. His hair spilled ink across his pale forehead. Nightshade, no question. Which meant ...
“Thank you, Grimshaw,” Isla said firmly. She quickly straightened and looked around, hoping no one had seen her stumble. She could practically hear Poppy and Terra in each of her ears, scolding her.
But besides Isla and the Nightshade, the cliff was empty. She turned, and a tiny choking sound rasped against the back of her throat. The sea raged angrily hundreds of feet below. She had almost joined the jutting rocks and ended her plans at saving her people before the Centennial had even started.
Endedallher plans.
“That would have been inconvenient.” The Nightshade ruler grinned, revealing a single dimple, completely out of place in his cruelly cut face. “Call me Grim, Isla.”
Grim.What a terrible word, Isla thought, worn with pride. Still, the name suited him. Therewassomething grim beneath that grin, a faint shadow that might become monstrous in the dark.
“Have we met before?” It wasn’t that he knew her name, no. That was expected. It wasn’t even that he pronounced it perfectly, like a snake’s hiss, with all the letters sounded out. There was something else ...
That grin faltered. “If we had”—his eyes dipped for just a moment—“it wouldn’t have been just once.”
Isla could feel her face get hot beneath his gaze. Other than rare, closely monitored interactions or her secret travels to the other newlands with her starstick, she hadn’t spent much time with men.
Especially men who looked like him.
Especially men who didn’t seem to be terrified of her and her Wildling curse.
She frowned. Heshouldbe afraid. If a Wildling wished, they could make a person fall off a cliff in pursuit of them. Their power to beguile was impossible to resist—though forbidden during the hundred days. The Nightshade must have thought he was safe.
He was not.
Each Centennial was a giant game, a chance to gain unparalleled ability. It was said that whoever broke the curses by fulfilling the prophecy would be gifted all the power it had taken to spin them—the ultimate prize.
Was his flirting meant to distract her?
Isla glared at him.
And Grim grinned even wider.
Interesting.
Every hundred years since the curses had been cast, the island of Lightlark appeared for just a hundred days, freed from its impassable storm. Rulers of each realm were invited to journey from the new lands they had settled after fleeing Lightlark, to try to break the curses binding each of their powers and the island itself. Every realm exceptfor Nightshade, that was. Nightshades had the power to spin curses, making them prime suspects for having created them in the first place, though they denied it. This year, it seemed as though the Lightlark king was desperate.
It was the first Centennial Nightshade had been invited to.
Grim took her arm once more. Before Isla could object, he gently moved her to the side. A moment later, the giant marking on the edge of the cliff—an insignia representing all six realms—glowed gold, and someone else appeared from thin air, right where Isla had been.
A pale-blue cloak cracked with wind before settling against bare, very dark shoulders and muscled arms. The man had eyebrows larger than his eyes, a sculpted chin, and perfectly coiffed stubble that framed his pink mouth. Azul, ruler of Skyling. Isla had known their names since the time she could talk. Azul and Grim were both ancient, more than five hundred years old. Alive the day the curses had been cast. They were legends—compared to them, she was no one.
Centuries were apparently not enough time for Azul and Grim to have become friends. The Skyling nodded curtly at the Nightshade, and Grim’s smile turned wicked. Mocking. Azul turned to Isla and bowed fully, reaching for her hand.
“Nice to have new Wildling blood this Centennial,” he said. His bright eyes met hers, then studied her fingers, each covered in rings with gems as big as acorns. Though the rest of the realms liked to view Wildlings as savages, their wealth was unquestionable. Control of nature had its advantages. “Clouds, I’ve never seen a diamond that big.”
To Isla, it was just a rock. Pretty, of course, but nothing in spades ever seemed too special. Jewels were made when great power was wielded over nature, and over the centuries the glittering gems had bloomed beneath the ground in the Wildling newland, rising up eventually, blossoming like flowers. It was difficultnotto trip over some sort of precious stone in Isla’s lands, which she only knew from texts, and certainly not from personal experience.
As far as Terra and Poppy were aware.
Terra always said those glittering rocks were the reason they had such a steady supply of hearts. Thieves from other realms, foolish and bold and wicked, sneaked onto their territory for the diamonds.
