Celeste sat back in her chair, eyebrows raised.
Azul put down the goblet he was holding.
Cleo regarded her with even more disdain than before. In her rush, Isla had grabbed one of her most brazen dresses, one she had been instructed to wear far later in the game. The bones of the bodice were visible, the panels nearly sheer. The skirt had a slit that ran up her leg, to the top of her thigh. Her cape was green lace, attached to a dipping neckline.
Grim looked amused, eyeing her every step in a way that made her flush, mortified.
There was someone else at the head of the table. The same person who had been watching her sing—who must have both saved her and abandoned her.
Oro, king of Lightlark, ruler of Sunlings. He had hair like woven gold, eyes as amber and hollow as honeycomb. Mean eyes that pinned her in place. He frowned and nodded curtly at her in welcome, purely out of obligation.
Why had the king saved her?
Only to regard her so dismissively.
She returned the cold nod and took the empty seat at his side, cursing whoever had placed her there.
Isla’s wet hair draped over her arm, dripping down her skin and onto the floor beside her in a puddle. Her body shook slightly, freezing, the flimsy, practically fabric-less excuse of a gown doing absolutely nothing to warm her.
The taunting voice was back:Are you ready, Isla?
Of course she wasn’t. How had she been foolish enough to accept the Centennial invitation? To walk directly into such a deadly game?
One of the six rulers had to die. As the youngest and least experienced, she would be a fool to believe it wouldn’t be her. Especially when she had nearly died twice already, less than a day into the ceremony.
If she was smart, she would leave that night, using her starstick.
If she wanted to live, she would abandon the island, her realm, her people, her duty, and never look back. Lands beyond Lightlark and the newlands were largely unexplored. She had always wondered about them. It would be risky traveling beyond them, but certainly not more dangerous than the Centennial ...
She couldn’t. Not if she ever wished to be truly free. Her curse would never allow her to have the full life she wanted, with the people she cared about most. Terra. Poppy. Celeste.
If all went to plan, she would never have to be hidden away like a secret again. She would never feel ashamed about who she was. She could lead her people to prosperity and travel the newlands at will, visiting Celeste whenever she wanted to.
Isla had spent countless hours of her life studying other people, guessing at their motivations.
Freedom was hers.
Oro studied her dripping hair, and he had the nerve to smile. “I know our seas are irresistible ... but please, in the future, do limit your swims to earlier in the evening so as not to keep the rest of us waiting.” He raised his chin slightly. The crown atop his head was gold and gleaming, its spikes sharp enough to draw blood. “Very rude—though perhaps my expectations of your realm were too high to begin with.”
Cleo’s eyes glittered with amusement, relishing the red that Isla could feel spreading across her cheeks. “A swim inthatsea, atthishour? She certainly is a wild pet. Even a Moonling wouldn’t think to do such a thing during the Centennial. Only a fool would.”
Wild. Pet. Fool.The Moonling had managed to insert multiple jabs in just a few short sentences.
“Certainly not on a full moon,” Isla said smoothly, the words slipping out before she could stop herself.
Silence.
Silverware clattered together somewhere across the room.
Moonlings’ curse meant that every full moon, the sea claimed dozens of lives from their realm, drowning anyone who found themselves too close to the coast. It made faraway trade nearly impossible, made living near the ocean a danger, and had completely crippled the Moonlings’ economy.
Isla regretted her words immediately. The way Cleo’s eyes narrowed, right at her, like an arrow marking its target, made her feel like she had just officially made her first enemy.
Before anyone could say another word, a plate was placed in front of Isla. On it sat a bleeding heart.
“Sourced from the worst of our prisons,” Oro said smoothly. “A murderer of women.”
It took all of Isla’s will to smile warmly at him. “How kind of you. However, I prefer to eat in private. Some find it ... disturbing.” She looked around for the Starling who had led her to the dining hall. “Could I have this sent to my room for later?”
