Isla whirled around, only to find another ruler standing there.
Azul.
Her blood went cold. Did he know that she had been on his isle the night before? Had someone seen her?
HadGrimtold him? They didn’t appear to be friends, but alliances were easy to hide during the Centennial. Isla and Celeste were the prime example of that.
If she hadn’t been distracted, she would have heard him approach. She wouldn’t have leaped in surprise at his voice.
She pasted a practiced smile on her face. “What a pleasant surprise,” she said, her tone sounding so genuine, Isla wondered when she had become such a good liar.
“Likewise,” he said, matching her expression. “What brings you to this part of the Mainland, Ruler?”
Isla tried her best not to let her voice tremble, the way her hands were. She clasped them behind her back. “The castle was getting a bit dreary. I thought I would do some exploring.”
Azul’s grin grew, but it did not reach his eyes. They remained as cold as the gems he hoarded. Was it possible she hadn’t been as discreet on Sky Isle as she thought?
Or perhaps he was just wary of her. And why wouldn’t he be? She was wary of him too.
“If it’s the Mainland you’d like to see ... allow me to take you to one of its greatest wonders.”
She didn’t want to go anywhere with a ruler who might or might not know that she had been disguised as one of his people the day before. Their chance encounter was too great of a coincidence.
He must know.
Refusing his offer would make him even more suspicious of her, though. “How generous of you.”
They started in the direction of the mountain range that framed the Mainland. The rock was brown and red in some places, marbled in others.
“How are you enjoying the island?” he asked lightly, as if the Centennial was a vacation, and not Isla’s only chance at living.
Of course, he couldn’t know that. A Wildling ruler was supposed to be nearly immortal.
“I can understand its appeal ... though I have much to explore.” She had learned that it was better to let others speak when she had much to hide. Most people liked to talk about themselves, anyway. “And how is your fifth Centennial?”
He laughed without humor. Something about that laugh was strange, Isla thought. Bitter, maybe. “It’s ... interesting.” He pursed his lips. “The first Centennial, I’m sure you’ve heard, was a nightmare. Almost worse than the war ... With the second came rules, and some order. We had plans. Strategies. But no alliances. None of us trusted each other, you see, after the first time. For good reason too.”
His voice trailed off, and Isla saw something flash in his eyes.
Was it pain?
“The third was better. It was the first time we split into teams. We believed we were very close to breaking the curses—to figuring out all parts of the prophecy. We were wrong, of course. By the fourth, it seemed most had lost hope. Cleo did not even attend ... did you know that?” Isla nodded, though she most certainly hadn’t known.
Any ruler who didn’t attend wasn’t eligible for the grand prize ... and their curse wouldn’t be broken with the rest, should someone find a solution. Why would Cleo stay away?
More importantly—why had she returned this year?
Dread danced in her bones, and Isla had the feeling there was something everyone else knew that she didn’t.
“Even without her, we really thought we had it.” He shook his head. “The curses have ruined so much. But one of the worst things it has done is tear our realms further apart. Before, we were very close to unity.”
Isla knew this from Poppy’s history lessons. She was happy to speak about anything that didn’t involve her sneaking into the Sky Isle library. “That’s why King Egan was getting married to another ruler, wasn’t it? To try to bring the realms back together?” Isla used to wonder if the king had decided, atypically, to marry outside his realm for love. That was certainly how Poppy told King Egan and Aurora’s story. A Sunling and a Starling finding love, despite their differences. It was the only time her guardian hadn’t spoken about love as a cautionary tale.
“Precisely.” Azul sighed. “Now, here we are at the fifth.” He looked at her briefly over his shoulder, pity in his eyes. “And I’m afraid I don’t know if I have it in me to attend a sixth.”
Isla swallowed at his dark tone. Was this a warning?
Was he telling her that, despite his typically jovial disposition, he wasn’t above killing her if it meant this Centennial was the last?
