He looked so upset, she didn’t dare form a response.
“It’s because choosing therightruler and realm to die is the difficult part. Not just because we would be sentencing thousands to death. But becauseallof our futures depend on making the right decision.” His voice became louder. She had never seen him more impassioned. Or angry. “All of our realms are connected. You can’t begin to understand the consequences of losing one of them. Even if we did know for certain the offense that needed to be committed again, the decision of who needs to die would be nearly impossible.That,more than anything else, is why the curses haven’t been broken until now.”
Isla didn’t know why she spoke her next few words. But she needed clarity. Answers. “Why not just kill Grim, then?” she wondered, even as the thought made her insides twist with a surprising amount of pain. Even if he seemed to have forgotten about her. “He’s not part of Light-lark. Isn’t he the obvious choice?”
His smile was mocking. Cruel. “I can’t,” he said. Perhaps it was because he was so angry, so eager to throw in her face how little she understood, he told her more than she expected he would. “Grim is the only thing standing between us and a greater danger you can’t even begin to fathom.”
Greater danger?What could be more dangerous than the Nightshade? Or the curses? Or the Centennial?
He looked down at her like she was a fool, a naive ruler. And it did seem now like she knew nothing. Terra and Poppy had always framed the Centennial as a survival-of-the-fittest game. One where the weakest link would be murdered, if the others were given the chance. If Oro was to be believed, the hundred days were more about making therightchoice over the most convenient. Before she could ask anything else, he had stormed off.
The king was on the other side of the woods now. She could hear him every few minutes, slicing into the bark with his powers, just enoughto look inside the trunk. He didn’t get distracted, no matter how many hours they did the same task.
Isla couldn’t say the same. Not when she now had so many questions on her mind.
She had finished her section for the night. No hearts. Just the occasional animal burrowed inside the trunk that would peek up at her with curious eyes.
Celeste had visited her that morning, looking for an update.
I’m trying,Isla had said. It just never seemed like the right moment to ask the king about the library. Too soon or out of the blue, and he would become suspicious of her request.
Now, she wondered if she had burned all her chances at getting him to take her to the Sun Isle library with their earlier conversation. The king had looked furious.
It was dangerous, stupid, but she walked deeper into the woods, hand trailing along the coffiners until they ended. The nature changed, becoming wilder. Flowers bloomed, red like the dresses she most often wore.
Rosebushes. Bulbous petals guarded by halos of thorns.
The last Wildling Eldress, the one she had found in the forest, had called her that once.
You are a rose with thorns,she said. A pretty thing capable of protecting itself.
If only.
Her blades should have been enough. She was a great warrior. But against power—metal might as well be paper.
The rosebushes became thicker, turning into another plant. One that had spines long and thick as fingers, jutting everywhere. It looked like a weapon. She didn’t know why, but she followed it through the forest, watching the bush become larger, taller.
Until she reached an entire wall of spines and thorns.
Her pulse raced.
Thorns formed on plants to guard them. They were defense mechanisms, just like her own throwing stars and blades.
This entire wall of spikes had to be protecting something.
Maybe the heart of Lightlark.
Isla turned to yell for Oro, triumphant.
That was when it struck.
The thicket of spines came to life—wrapped her in its embrace.
And pulled her right into its nest of spikes.
Her scream was a guttural thing. Dozens of barbs stabbed through her back at once, sharp as blades. Thorns needled themselves through her arms.
She was well practiced in pain, but this was not rehearsed. Not expected.
