“Do you remember how you got him?” Her aura was dripping with curiosity. And hope.
What a ridiculous question. He—
Grim frowned. His mind was simply blank. As if his memory was a library that had partially been looted. Some books turned to ash. Missing. He wasn’t lying when he told Cronan how unsettling it was.
She filled in the gaps. Her voice was gentle. “I found him. We raised him. Together.”
Together. The word grated at him. There was notogetherwith anyone. And certainly not with a Wildling. He was a ruler, above everything else, in a realm that had long split from the rest. The only being that had brought him any comfort at all was the one she dared speak about.
“My dragon will survive,” he said, pushing her forward.
“Will he?” Isla asked, looking back at him. She was wearing another ridiculous dress, this one with burgundy sleeves that draped off her shoulders. “What if Cronan decides he wants the dragon for himself?”
The thought of Cronan getting anywhere close to Wraith had his shadows sharpening into points. Isla noticed. She kept prodding, like any good warrior who had found a weak point. “Will you just stand aside while Cronan takes him?”
No. He wouldn’t. He knew that, but he didn’t say a word. It didn’t stop her from continuing.
“What if he decides he doesn’t need an heir at all? What if he uses you to help conquer our world and then kills you?”
“Youare the one who kills me,” he spat. He shook his head, incredulous. “Are you that shameless? Trying to get me to work with you when we both have seen the future?”
“Afuture,” she breathed. “It’s not guaranteed.”
Grim huffed a cruel laugh. “So you’re half as likely to kill me. You think that makes me anything other than your enemy?”
Isla swallowed. There. She was silent for a few moments before saying, in a small voice, “When we first met, you planned to kill me.”
Grim didn’t react. It didn’t surprise him. He was planning on killing hernow.
“But we fell in love. You...you changed your mind. You chose me, over the world. Over yourself.”
“And look where that got us,” he said, his voice cutting, as he turned the corner toward her cell.
Without a word, he pushed her inside. Slammed the door closed.
He should go back to the dinner. Back to Cronan. But he couldn’t get himself to move. He still had so many questions. It wasnotfascination with her, he told himself. It was frustration at how little he remembered. At how untethered he felt at the missing pieces in his mind, like something had been stolen from him.
Cronan told him that by taking his memories, he had set him free. Grim wondered if he had done the opposite.
Had Cronan taken more than just his memories with her? Or did those memories contain something vital?
He was tired of not knowing. Isla just stood there on the other side of the bars, staring at him, her emotions so strong he could practically taste them. Grim’s gazed dipped to the necklace she wore.
She was Wildling. It didn’tbelongon her.
Before he knew what he was doing, he reached through the bars of the cell, grabbed the diamond around her neck, and pulled it toward him, bringing her face to his. “How did you get this?” he demanded, yanking, like he could rip it off her.
Eyes never leaving his, she said, “You gave it to me.”
Impossible. But...her emotions. They were steady.
He dropped the diamond in shock. It had to be a trick.
He took a step away from the bars, as if distance would give him clarity. Around her...around her, he couldn’t fucking think straight. If the curses weren’t long broken, he would have blamed it on her Wildling charms. And she didn’t have any powers here. So, what was it? What was she doing to him?
Wait—now that he thought about it...he couldn’t remember how the curses were broken.
Hadshebroken them?
