“Fine,” Grim said, looking angry about everything. He roughly took Isla’s arm—
And they were in his room.
The last time she had been in here, Grim had been shirtless. And he had betrayed her, bringing her to Cronan. She could still feel the tears in her head from his shadows.
Grim wasted no time, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling up his sleeve to reveal the circle. She gingerly perched next to him, waiting to see if he would object. He didn’t.
“Why are you helping me?” he asked before her blood-soaked fingers could touch him.
She looked up at him. He was peering at her with narrowed eyes. She imagined he was combing through her emotions. He glanced at the symbol on her own arm but didn’t ask about it.
“Isn’t it obvious?” she asked. Then she pressed her fingers against the mark. He was concealing its true shape from her touch too. She covered the entire swath of skin to be safe.
Grim’s entire body went stiff, shifting away from her slightly. “I don’t like to be touched,” he said through his teeth.
“I know,” she whispered.
She kept her hand on his skin, his body both fighting it and welcoming it. She could tell he was in pain by the way his hands were clenched, his knuckles white. His fingers curled around his bed frame, and the wood splintered.
Her hold didn’t loosen. She needed time to fully heal the skyre so that it was completely seared into his skin, impenetrable by even Cronan’s power.
She was turned toward him. Their knees were nearly touching. Grim’s jaw tensed. His voice was thick as his gaze bored into hers. “I don’t understand you,” he said. “I called you weak. I called you a fool. I told you...I wouldkill you...”
Isla just shrugged a shoulder. “You’re a bastard in each lifetime, I guess,” she said. “In every version of our love story.”
“There is no love story,” he said, his hand in a fist, the veins of his arm quivering. His voice was so full of malice, she was positive he was considering throwing her out of his room, despite needing her help.
“Not yet,” she breathed.
After a long pause, he spoke like it was hard to get the words out, around the pain. “This....this isn’t going to soften me. If that was your hope, it’s not going to work. I’m just using you.”
“That’s not why I’m doing it,” she said, shaking her head. She applied more pressure and he hissed.
“Then why?” he demanded. “Why waste your efforts healing me only to kill me later on?It doesn’t make sense.”
He had done the same. She hadn’t known it at the time, but he had planned to kill her by using her to unlock Cronan’s sword. Still,he had healed her on multiple occasions. But she knew the Grim in front of her didn’t care about that. And all she could tell him was the truth.
“Because I love you.”
That word was a mistake. His entire face shifted, transformed into a mask of rage. “You don’t loveme. You love a weak, foolish version of me that is dead.” His lip curled in disgust. And as the skyre fully healed, he portaled Isla back to her cell, where she landed roughly on her side while Lark’s smug laugh echoed around her.
ISLA
Isla shoved herself into a seated position with a groan and glared at her ancestor, who was still cackling. “You got your feather,” she said. “Now, where is the portaling device?”
Lark only sneered at her. “You made your choice. The feather was in exchange for the blood your husband needed.”
Isla slammed her hand down against the damp cell floor, exhausted and furious. “I don’t have time for your games. Cronan destroys my world in less than two weeks.”
“This isn’t a game,” Lark said. “We had an agreement, and you changed it. I held up my end of the bargain.”
She seemed to relish in Isla’s anger. Isla closed her eyes tightly. “What else do you want?” she said. She didn’t have time for this. Oro was in trouble. She opened her eyes at the silence.
Lark made a show of thinking. “Let’s see...I want you dead,” she said. “No?” She sighed. “Well, then. I guess you’re never going to find the portaling device. I hid it very well, you see. You won’t find it without me.”
Isla wanted to scream. She would kill Lark with her bare hands right now if she knew how. But all she could do was curl up on the cold stone floor. She didn’t even have the energy to cry.
Isla found it hard to hope at all. Like any muscle, it had tired. She was running out of time before Cronan killed her and everyone she loved—since she would never join him. She didn’t have much time to convince Grim to align with her. She was starting to suspect that even with all thetime in the world, he wouldn’t be swayed. She knew how stubborn he was, how adamant he had been to never fall in love before he met her.
