He took in her every inch and grinned. “Now you look satisfyingly terrifying, don’t you?”
Sparks twirled around her bones, and his grin widened, sensing it ... sensing how he made her feel.
She didn’t even bother hiding it. Not tonight. Not with everything else going on in her mind. Grim was the least of her worries.
“I didn’t see you,” she said.
He shrugged. “Sometimes the only way to keep people from bothering you is to not let them see you at all.”
Isla wished she’d had that power an hour ago. “Then why bother going visible again?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Grim took a step toward her. Took her hand into his with such brazen possession that she nearly took it back. “To dance with you, of course.”
Before she could say a word, she was whirling around, the sheer bottom of her dress draping across the marble floor, leaves crinkling. His hand, cold as night, was at the base of her spine—the other wrapped completely around hers.
His grin was devilish, and she swallowed, knowing exactly what he was sensing as her hand gripped one of his wide shoulders, as she looked up at eyes that might as well have been two pools of ink, the space between stars.
Did it frighten him? Everyone in the six realms lived in fear of having a Wildling love them. It was a death sentence.
And she didn’t love him ... she barely knew him.
But shouldn’t he be afraid of what she was feeling now?
She pressed herself closer, completely against him, reading hisreaction, surprising herself with her boldness. And Grim only laughed darkly. His hand ran a slow trail down her spine—then up once more. “Hearteater,” he said into her ear. “You’re killing me.”
Isla didn’t breathe. His breath was against her cheek. He smelled like stone and storms and something spiced, like cinnamon.
She bit her lip, and he watched the movement, swallowing.
Then he was gone.
No, not gone. Invisible.
And so was she.
A crowd of nobles entered a moment later. Their voices were high-pitched with the pleasure of passing along gossip, though Isla didn’t pay attention to their words. Grim was shadowed next to her, visible ... but not truly there. Her own body looked similar.
The sight of the nobles made her sick. Betting on lives. Looking at her as if she deserved to die, simply for being born.
Suddenly, she craved a distraction. The ball would soon turn bloody. She would either stand and fight—or flee to a safer location. She still wasn’t sure. What shewassure about was that these could be the last few minutes that she didn’t have to watch her back, the last hour she might enjoy just for herself.
“Let’s go,” she whispered. They were both leaned against the balcony, facing the crowd.
Grim raised an eyebrow at her. “Leave the ball?”
“Just for a bit. Right now, I want to be anywhere else.”
Grim grinned wickedly. He wrapped his arm fully around her waist. “Then allow me to whisk you away, Hearteater.”
He fell back and took her with him. They plummeted right off the interior balcony, backward, to the floor below.
Grim’s hand was over her mouth before she could scream—half a moment later, she was in his arms. It was all a blur, the marble and ceiling lights and the sheets of her gown mixing to make their own galaxy, and then she was on the ground.
Isla looked at him like she wanted to gut him, and he just laughed. The nobles were huddled like wolves above, oblivious to them. She ceased being shadow, and Grim went solid before her. He took her hand once more and said, “Night is a wicked time, Hearteater ... you can get into all sorts of trouble.”
Trouble.That was exactly what he was, leading her through room after room before turning into a hall. He knew the way well, and Isla had almost forgotten that it had been his home once. Centuries before.
Grim went down a set of stairs, and Isla matched his pace. Around and around they went. Down, down, down. She was smiling—why was she smiling?—even as she could barely see the steps before her. No light shined there, the brightness of the ball far behind them.
