She was crying. Her sorrow swept over him, thick as fog.
He knew for certain then that the entire display at dinner had been a façade. But even Cronan had believed it...which meant that she had kept part of her mind hidden from him.
Without powers.
But why kill the woman, then? In order to make Cronan believe she was on his side?
He suddenly remembered something Cronan had said. That the Wildling’s flair was absorption. Had she killed the woman to keep her alive, somehow?
Was she hoping there was a way to bring her back?
It was the only explanation for her current suffering. Grim knew he should relay this to Cronan the way he had before, to show her again that her blind belief in him was useless.
But as he listened to her sobs, Grim couldn’t stomach betraying her again. Not after she had healed his arm. Not after she had donesomethingabout the innocent deaths, when he had sat back like a coward.
It was something about her defiance and her quiet strength, about her foolish faith and unwavering loyalty to him that had him striding back toward his chambers instead of the galaxy room. And creating a temporary shadow barrier around her cell so the knights wouldn’t hear her.
ORO
He was alone on his balcony, staring worriedly out at the horizon instead of resting like his friends thought he was, when he saw Isla materialize in front of him.
Isla. Her appearance alone was like a balm—but also a pain. She was the fever and the medicine.
She was cleaner now than before. Made up, even. It was better than the injuries, of course, but Oro worried that her circumstances were maybe more dangerous than they were previously.
Especially when he noticed the tears on her face...and the blood stain on her sleeve.
She spoke quickly, like she wasn’t sure how much time they had.
“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I haven’t been able to get Lark to tell me where my portaling device is.”
Oro tried to keep the despair he felt from showing. There wasn’t any point in upsetting her more.
These last few days had been just endless disappointment. Wall after wall to break down, he himselfbecominga wall between these beasts and his island.
A person could only take so much. Even Cinder was weakening. She was exerting too much of her energy, so Oro had sent her and Maren to Star Isle two days prior, where they were safer, so she could rest. His friends were injured in the last attack.
Now it was just him, standing between worlds. Trying to keep the door open, while not letting anything else in.
It was a certainty that he would fall. He couldn’t do it alone. He needed more help.
“Do you think it’s on Nightshade?” he said. Lark had gotten there from Lightlark, after all.
“Most likely.”
He frowned. Well, then he would have to go find it himself. “I’m going to fly there,” he said. “I’ll look for it.” The journey would take days, but he had no choice—they needed that portaling device.
He stood. He would get Cinder and have her and his friends stand watch. They’d had days to recover.
“Wait!” Isla’s voice stopped him. “Lark said you’ll never be able to find it without her.”
Oro’s eyes closed. Of course the witch would have hidden it deep underground, or somewhere else he couldn’t even imagine.
They didn’t have time. Every hour mattered.
Cronan’s attack was just days away. If he flew to Nightshade and still couldn’t find it...he might not even have enough time to return to Lightlark before Cronan invaded.
When he opened his eyes again, he saw Isla, curled against the ground, body coiled. He knew her—he knew that she was lost in her mind. Likely hating herself for all the mistakes she always put solely on her own shoulders. She was slipping away. Losing strength.
