“To secure my realm’s survival,” he replies. The truth of his words sinks onto my tongue. Still, I don’t trust him at all.
“You must know I’ll kill you the second there’s opportunity.”
“Of course.” He nods. “Which is why there’s something you should know.” My eyes narrow. What could possibly change my position?
“Kill me, and something worse will be freed on Nightshade.”
Truth.
Curiosity overcomes my hatred for just a moment. “What do you mean?”What could be worse than this demon before me?
He waits, considering. Likely wondering if he should tell me. I can see the indecision in his eyes before he finally says, “Lark Crown is alive.”
My entire body goes still. I’m not breathing.Lark Crown. I haven’t heard that name in centuries. “Impossible,” I say. “They’re all dead.” All the founders of the island have long since died.
But he’s telling the truth.
“Not her. She can’t be killed. Her flair is regrowth. Cronan buried her, to stifle her powers and keep her at bay.”
Of course, I’ve heard the stories of the founders’ world-building. Of Lark’s power. Presumably, all of us rulers have. If accounts of history are accurate, she’s more powerful than all of us combined. After centuries of being trapped, she’ll be hell-bent on revenge. She’ll be unpredictable.
“My bloodline keeps her imprisoned,” he says. Truth. “Kill me, and she’ll be unleashed.”
Well, fuck.
It also means Isla can’t die to fulfill the prophecy. Her ruling line wouldn’t end, if Lark is still alive.
He smiles, sensing my frustration.Revelingin it. “Sorry to disappoint you,” he drawls. “I know how much you’d love to kill me.”
On that, I allow my flames to burn out, and he slams his door in my face.
I can’t kill Grim to fulfill the prophecy. Not unless I find the heart of Lightlark first. It is said to contain original Nightshade power, from his bloodline. If I learn to wield it, perhaps I can keep Lark imprisoned after Grim is dead. It’s a plan born of desperation, a reach. I have no way of knowing whether the power in the heart will match Grim’s own. But right now, it’s the only plan I have.
Because if one of my realms falls ... it will kill thousands on the island. Lightlark won’t survive it. That leaves either Wildling or Nightshade.
And now I know the Wildling’s death wouldn’t solve anything. Not that I was in a rush to kill her anyway.
The singing rings through my head again. My back teeth clench together.
It’s only the first day, and everything has already gotten so much harder.
The next few weeks will be full of trials, planned by each ruler, designed to showcase each of our strengths and weaknesses. A way to try to convince each other that our realms should live.
Whoever wins the most trials decides the teams we split up into. It’s an illusion of control in this twisted game.
I don’t trust any of the other rulers, save for Azul, who never fights to win.
So, I must be the winner. I must decide the matches.
Grim’s trial is first. He proposes a duel.
I’m paired with Azul first. Besting him takes only seconds. Cleo and the Starling—Celeste—are next. Cleo doesn’t hold back. She never does. I almost pity the Starling.
Then, it’s the Wildling—Isla—and Grimshaw. I don’t care if she lives or dies, beyond the rules of the Centennial, even if I did save her. That is what I tell myself, as I watch them duel.
I want her to lose. I want the chance to duel Grim, so that I can maim him in public.
She doesn’t lose.
