He was so close she could feel his breath on her cheek, cold as the rain outside, cold as the fingers that were still partially knotted in her hair.
“And you?” she said, her voice just a rasp. “What are you feeling?”
Grim grinned. “Oh,” he said, eyes trained to hers, as if he wanted to make sure she heard every word, “what I’m feeling can’t be said in a place like this.”
Her breath shouldn’t have been catching; her pulse shouldn’t have quickened at his proximity or words. She still didn’t know why he had come to the Centennial, what he was after. Isla had judged her people for their recklessness with love. Now, she understood them a little better.
And herself a little worse.
What was she doing? She had always thought herself above such desires. Stronger than her mother. More focused. Grim had told her she couldn’t trust him. He had proven it time and time again.
Why did that make her want to get even closer to him?
With a final tug, he freed her crown. He frowned down at it, and Isla watched as his thumb ran across the dent Oro had made days before. It smoothed over instantly. He handed it to her, in the limited space between them.
She took it with treacherous, trembling fingers.
Then he turned, leaving her standing there, words caught in her throat. She gripped her crown so hard, its rough edges pierced painfully into her hand.Get a grip.
Celeste’s warning flashed in her mind then. He was a distraction. He was playing her.
She could play him too.
“Where wereyouthat night?” she asked, voice still a little breathless. “The night of the curses.”
He looked over his shoulder at her. Shadows danced at his feet, their sharp edges ebbing and flowing. Like night itself was seeping from him. “Do you really want to know?”
“Yes.”
“I was in bed.”
Isla’s eyebrows came together. “You weresleeping?”
He stared at her. “No.”
Oh.
Suddenly the stained-glass window seemed very interesting. Isla studied its four illustrations intently, hoping the heat she felt on her face wasn’t visible in the darkness.
Grim sat at one of the benches in the abbey, elbows on his knees. He watched her—she could feel his gaze on her but couldn’t bring herself to look back.
In an instant, he was behind her. She felt his breath on her bare shoulder and tensed.
“When I left my chambers, everything was burning. And all of the rulers were dead.” She turned and found his face drawn, more serious than she had ever seen it. “I was a ruler of realm. When all I had ever trained to be was a warrior.”
Darkness billowed out of him in waves, snuffing out even the limited light creeping in from the window. A flash of lightning struck outside, but its light did not reach them.
Isla swallowed. Turned to face him fully. “I know what it’s like to have responsibility you never wanted ... and never thought you deserved.”
Grim’s hands were tightly wound by his sides. She tentatively reachedout and opened one of them. Ran a finger across his palm and felt him tense in front of her.
“Will you show me?” she asked, knowing she shouldn’t.
He seemed to know she meant his powers. The extent of them, beyond the simple demonstration he had given weeks before. And she seemed to know that he needed a release.
Grim looked intently into her eyes. “Are you sure you want to see?” he asked.
She almost said yes immediately, then remembered the bite of disappointment she’d felt at his answer the last time he had prefaced his response. He was warning her, she realized.
