The thought sounded poisonous in her mind, but she remembered her vision in front of the vault. If she didn’t stop Grim, he would kill innocent people. He would kill her. Oro had been right. Grim’s words in her room had confirmed it.It’s because I care about you that I’m doing this.
Grim was really going to war because of her. She didn’t know his main reason for destroying Lightlark, but his purpose was clear. Which meant every death would be her fault.
He had stolen her people. Her memories. Her happiness, the last few months.
She wouldn’t allow him to steal anything else.
“Yes,” she said.
Oro met her eyes. She expected to see relief, but all she sensed was concern. He reached across the table for her. She watched Azul track the exchange. By now, he must have known. Oro didn’t seem to care that everyone else was watching as he said, “You don’t have to do this.”
Isla remembered Enya’s words. She saw her meaning clearly now. Oro was putting her own well-being above that of the entire island.
She wouldn’t let him. “Yes,” she finally said. “I do.”
She was going to kill Grim.
Remlar taught her the basics of taking power. It required a complete hold. Pinching the thread between her and Grim between her fingers and being strong enough to stop the flow of power within him.
“It will be painful,” he warned. “And difficult. Grimshaw is a most talented wielder,” he admitted. Isla wondered if Remlar had ever met him.
They had almost run out of time. Only two days remained. Grim clearly needed something on Lightlark. If she could remember what it was, they could shift their plan to make sure he didn’t get it.
She just needed a shortcut.
“I need you to help me speed it all up,” she told Remlar. He had warned her it would be dangerous to force the memories. It could break her, mentally. At this point, she didn’t care.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “Even knowing the risks?”
“I’m sure.”
Remlar began making tea.
Isla’s mind was a battleground.
She didn’t want to remember—she had to remember.She didn’t want to feel anything but disgust at the Nightshade—she had felteverythingwith the Nightshade.
The more she saw, the more she knew ...
“What is the opposite of night, Wildling?” Remlar said, as he poured the tea into her mug.
Isla frowned. She was convinced Remlar just liked to hear himself talk. “Day?”
Remlar shrugged. “If you say so.”
Isla narrowed her eyes at him. “What do you mean? What’s the answer?”
Remlar took a sip of his own tea. It looked scalding. “Very few questions in this world have only one answer.”
Isla wondered what the point of this conversation was.
“What isyouranswer?” she asked. She watched as her tea became more saturated in color.
He didn’t say a thing. These were mostly one-sided conversations. “What does power feel like to you?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Like a seed. Behind my ribs.”
Remlar nodded, excited by her response. “A very pretty way of seeing it,” he said. “Very fitting, for a Wildling.”
