It was a grand display. An innovation that would surely make an impact on Lightlark.
The crowd certainly seemed to think so as well.
Isla wondered what the pages Azul had distributed even said. Perhaps an invitation to a festivity the Skyling was throwing in the agora after this.
“Cleo.”
Isla hoped that the lack of time to prepare had flustered the ruler. She imagined the Moonling struggling to put together a demonstration and nearly smiled.
Cleo only radiated confidence as she strolled toward the center of the arena. She had no helpers. No tools ... or anything visual to display.
Her words were simple. “We have ships,” she said. “For the past two centuries, we have built many,manyships.”
That was it.
The Moonling walked back to her place, and Isla felt a tinge of anger in her chest. She wondered if the crowd would be silent. Confused. If the other rulers would balk at her lack of display.
But no one did. Moonlings cheered, all but confirming that they had spent decades making the fleet Cleo had so casually described.
She could be lying. But Oro looked like he believed her.
He looked like he hadn’t known about the ships at all.
Interesting.Celeste was right. There was tension brewing between some of the Lightlark realms.
Though a navy wasn’t logical while the Moonlings were still haunted by the deadly full moon, itwouldbe useful in a postcurse world. The ships could be used to bring the thousands of Moonlings, Starlings, Wildlings, and Skylings back to Lightlark, to unify the realms in one place once more. They could explore distant lands beyond the island and the realms’ newlands.
They could also be used for war.
“Celeste,” Isla said, wondering if the way she spoke her friend’s name was different than she had said the others. Wondering if saying a person’s name thousands of times made it sound different coming from a mouth.
The Starling was prepared, of course. A dozen of her subjects joined her.
“My realm has been developing a way to manufacture tools and weapons, using solely our power,” she said, gesturing to her people, bidding them to begin.
The crowd watched in wonder as they demonstrated the way they pooled their energy, making it so concentrated that, before their eyes, a sword was created in just moments. They had turned energy to metal, almost like Oro had turned the table to gold.
Almost.
This took a dozen Starlings and much effort. For one sword.
The king could likely gild them all in a single breath.
Celeste took the finished sword in her hand and lifted it up, to the endless cheers of all the Starlings in attendance.
Isla wanted to smile, wanted to say something to her friend. But all she did was call out the next name.
“Oro.”
The king did not meet her gaze as he took his place. He had always looked at her with disdain. Now, after likely knowing she’d let him win the duel and using him as a prop for Azul’s demonstration, it seemed he deemed her below his notice.
“We have found additional ways to spread light and heat throughout the island.” He lit a fire in front of him with a curl of his fingers. Then he dipped his entire hand inside it before dragging it out again quickly, fingers splayed. The flames came apart, the fire like spatters of paint, flying across the room. There were screams—some islanders blocked themselves using their power.
But the flames had been contained in dozens of orbs. They landed harmlessly in hands and laps. “They will not go out, as long as the original flame is lit.”
Between the endless hearths inside the castle, torches across the Mainland, and this demonstration, the king clearly had an obsessionwith making sure flames were everywhere. Was it because they represented his rule? His realm?
He allowed the crowd a few more moments of inspecting the orbs of fire, throwing them in the air, marveling at their warmth, the light like a hundred fireflies lighting up the arena, before curling his hand. Smothering his flames.
