But that wasn’t always the case.
She clearly doesn’t want him to die either. She’s willing to fight. Fight forhim.
Her blade is to my throat now. The metal quivers against my neck. I could have stopped it, but I didn’t. I watch her look up at me, chest heaving, eyes full of tears.
“Do it,” I dare her. She won’t kill me; she wouldn’t sentence thousands to death. But will she make me bleed? Will she make me suffer even more than she already has?
We stare at each other, sharing breath.
Then she leaves me here, wondering if I’ll ever see her again.
I should follow her. I should go to her room.
I can almost feel it—feel her getting ready to betray me. Getting ready to find a way to save both Celeste and Grim.
So why don’t I hate her for it?
I’m pacing around my room when the castle jolts. I tense, waiting for the flash of pain, but it doesn’t come. It’s not the island, breaking.
It’s something else.
Screams echo from the halls below. I’m out of my room in a flash, following them.
Part of the castle is in ruins. It’s been brought down. I smell sparks, Starling power ... but no living Starling is capable of this.
This is mastery. There haven’t been masters of Starling power in years, that I know of.
Certainly not in the castle.
Attendants are dead. I use my Starling energy to lift as much debris as possible, but body after body is unresponsive. Crushed.
Celeste is still incapacitated, after the attack. And Isla would never be part of a plan that killed innocents. So, who did this?
Did someone secure a Starling bomb? I haven’t seen one this strong in centuries. The amount of energy needed simply hasn’t existed.
Isla. Is she in danger?
I rush to her room. I don’t even think, I just go there, needing to know she’s okay.
I knock—but there’s no answer. I wait, and wait, and finally, I say, “I’m coming in,” worried she might need me. The room is empty.
No—not empty.
The heart of Lightlark is sitting on her table, glowing through the room, shining through the darkness. Next to it sits a letter. I read it, and my blood runs cold.
No.
She’s left.
She’s left me ... to go with him. She thinks she’s found a way to save him. And there it is. The fire in my chest going out. Freezing over.
But through the pain, through the hurt, there is worry. This isn’t right—something is off. I know it in my soul. Isla is in trouble.
Where is she?
With his flair, Grim could take her anywhere, perhaps even back to Nightshade. Is she already gone?
I remember the Starling sparks, then.
