The screaming—
Isla is like a balm, bringing me back into the present. An anchor, pulling me down, firmly, into this moment.
She is oblivious to any of my inner torments, but her presence alone is enough to help me take a full breath. Instead of sinking into pasttraumas, I watch her. I watch her eyes widen, as she takes in the celebration, her wonder abating my worry. When she starts striding forward, through the crowd, I have no choice but to release the panic in my bones and walk with her.
Instruments peal through the daylight. I frown, the music needling in my brain. Shesmiles, though. Once, I would have enjoyed a celebration like this. I did occasionally on Lightlark, for that brief blip of time when I rid myself of any responsibility, and could actuallyfeelevery moment, without the weight of duty.
It’s only when we walk through the crowd that I fully comprehend what a poor decision this was. Everyone is admiring her, and I have to resist the urge to kill every single person in this place for daring to look.
But how could they not?
How could I blame them?
From the first time I saw her, she engraved herself into my very soul, scarred me far more than the wound from her blade ever could.
“How does it feel?” she whispers.
I glance over at her and have to physically stop myself from staring. “How does what feel?”
“Not being the scary, all-powerful Nightshade ruler anymore. In a crowd like this.” She finds the fact that I can’t use my powers amusing.
I give her a look. “I could still kill everyone here with my sword.” And I still might if they don’t take their eyes off what ismine.
“You couldn’t kill me.”
I look away, reminded by the fact that she will die. “Are you forgetting the results of our duel?”
“I didn’t hate you then as much as I do now. I’m sure that very fact would help me win.”
I resist the urge to use my powers, lest the sword be here, and I alert it to my presence. I do think that if I could read her emotions, I wouldn’t feel an ounce of hatred.
I know her expressions now. I can read her even without my powers, I realize.
I’ve never cared enough about a person to learn their expressions of emotions, what with my power. But I have learned her.
I have learned her.
“Is that so?” I ask, slightly amused.
“Absolutely,” she says, without any conviction whatsoever.
Interesting.
She asks me how we’re going to find the thief, and it is an ice-cold spring over my thoughts, a reminder that we are here to find the sword,notfor amusement.
“We know he has a snake. How else are we supposed to find him?” She looks over at me, and gods, it feels good when she looks at me. For a moment, I feel worthy, perhaps, of her notice. “Do you know how to get information without cutting off hands?” She’s still not over what I did to the thief in the keep, apparently.
I do.
There’s a barmaid carrying drinks. I walk up to her in my mask, and she doesn’t know me. None of these people know their ruler walks among them. I ask her about the man with a snake. For some reason, this woman thinks it’s all right to touch me. Her hand is on my arm, and I resist the urge to shudder. I resist the urge to forcibly remove it.
I don’t like being touched by anyone, especially unexpectedly.
It only takes moments to get the information. And I can’t wait to see the look on Isla’s face when I show her that I can indeed get answers without use of my blade.
“I know where to find him.”
Instead of being impressed, she looks annoyed. I wonder what in the world I could have already done to upset her.
