The heart. I need to redirect my focus to it. The heart is on Moon Isle. There are only a few places left to look. We are closer than ever to finally breaking these curses.
Sleep isn’t going to find me again. I get dressed and pace the castle, as if I can fix all its problems. I end up in one of the only rooms in the keep where the windows haven’t been painted over.
Everything makes me think of her, even the moonlight. I think about how it hits her eyes, making them sparkle. I think back through everything she’s said—every truth and lie.
I run every interaction, every detail through my head, my hand splayed against the glass to steady myself. I—
A sob sounds behind me.
I know who it is immediately. I whirl around—
Isla. The woman I can’t stop thinking about. The Wildling that has been hiding something from me this entire time ... she’s here, and she’s crying. Suddenly, I don’t care that she’s a liar.
“What happened?” I demand. I try to think what possibly could have occurred in the time since I last saw her. “I just saw you a couple of hours ago.” Who did this to her? Who made her upset?
She doesn’t answer me. All she says is, “Does your offer still stand?”
My offer. It feels like a lifetime ago that I made it, in that cave, even though it was just days ago.
I nod. In that cave, all I wanted to know was her secret. But now, for some inexplicable reason I care more about making these tears stop.
“Can I trust you?” she asks, her voice breaking.
“Yes. I’ve never lied to you, Isla. Not once.” It’s true. I feel the sweetness in my mouth.She can trust me. Even if I can’t trust her.
Another tear slips down, and before I can ask myself what the hell I’m doing, I’m striding toward her. I’m placing my hand against her forehead, to see if she has a fever.
Is she sick? Can I fix this?
She closes her eyes, and it looks like it hurts. Whatever happened, it looks like she’s in pain, and I wish there was a way I could take it from her.
Her lips tremble.
Her secret.
I try to remember why I care so much abouther secret.
I study her face, and I almost tell her to keep it, seeing the pain she’s in. I almost tell her I’ll give her whatever she wants, as long as she stops crying. As long as it would fix this.
“I was born powerless.”
Everything stops.
Faint ringing, far away, like being hit by the hilt of a sword right in the head. A tightness in my chest, like being kicked in the center of it.
No. It can’t be true.
But it is.I can taste how true it is. Truth, with a hint of that falseness I can’t decipher. I need to be clearer. Ask a specific question.
“Are you saying you have never used power?” I ask, my voice harsh, demanding. I feel like my own mind is unraveling. Like I might be a moment away from going mad. Because if she hasn’t, then her voice in my head, the incessant thoughts about her, all of it—all of it is not a lie. It’s real.
“Yes,” she says.
Truth.
I almost begin to miss her lies.
Because if she has no powers—
