“A silver pool.”
Her eyes widened, and Oro instantly knew that the pool had appeared to her as well. “What did it show you?”
He slowly sat back down. Secrets wouldn’t help them both save this world. He knew that. So he told her everything, all the questions he asked, and all the possibilities the water had shown him.
She just listened, a small fold between her brows.
“I didn’t realize how much hatred I had been holding on to,” he admitted after he was done. “How angry I still was toward my brother, for being so reckless. For causing the curses then—then leaving me to deal with the aftermath on my own.”
“But now you see that things would have always ended up the same,” she said. He nodded. “Lightlark is lucky to have you as king.”
His eyes slipped to the ground. His throat felt thick.
She reached toward him, her cold fingers wrapping around his own. “I’m glad you see what I always have. That you are more than we deserve. Even at your worst, you are better than all of us.” His gaze locked onto hers. Even though these were unusual circumstances, he knew she was one of the only people who could understand. He knew he was not alone.
That was clear when she said, “I saw something similar. About...the Nightshade village. About what I did.” A tear swept down her cheek. “It feels impossible to forgive myself. It’s so much easier to call myself a villain.”
“But you aren’t a villain,” Oro said, reaching out with his other hand to brush that tear away. “If you were, you would have joined Cronan a long time ago. You wouldn’t still be sitting in a cell. You would have chosen the easy way. And you’ve done many things, Isla...but you’ve never chosen the easiest path.”
“That’s not true.” Her voice was just a whisper. He could tell something was bothering her. He waited, hoping she would feel comfortable enough to share it, but not wanting to pry. Finally, she said, “I had the chance to see the future. To see the consequences of my choices. And I didn’t.”
Oro furrowed his brow. “Do you regret it?”
“Not looking?”
He nodded.
“Yes.” She took a trembling breath. “I regret ever making a choice out of fear. That’s—that’s not who I want to be. That’s not who our world deserves. It deserves someone like you. Someone strong enough to save it.”
Oro curled his hand over her shoulder, and squeezed. She was so cold. He sent some of his heat to her, hoping it would reach her. “My mother used to tell stories about phoenixes. She said they were like sunsets, dying on the horizon, only to be reborn every morning. She said a phoenix’s strength was not found in its flames but in its ashes.”
He thought about his journey to the portaling device. He thought about every pain and challenge he had faced in the last few weeks. “Falling is hard. Rising is worse.” He frowned. “You say I’m strong. You say I’m better than this world deserves. But I am also flawed and broken and weak. I have regrets. I have shame. I have moments that have marked me.” He looked up at her. “The strongest aren’t the unscarred, Isla—they’re the ones still standing.”
He reached up and touched the center of her forehead, where that dark mark was still visible. “And scars are not proof of failing—but surviving.”
Her eyes glistened with tears...but also with fire. She was the blade that refused to be broken. She was the flame that refused to be extinguished.
He said these words for her but also for himself. For he had felt unmoored lately. For centuries, he’d thought he needed to pretend that he was unbreakable. He thought breaking was a failing. Now, looking at her, he knew that true strength was in never staying broken.
Because Isla always got up, even in impossible circumstances. She alwaystried. And she had never pretended with him to be perfect. No, Isla was open with her feelings and fears, and it made him want to open up, too. He realized that in wanting to be strong for her, he hadn’t allowed the broken pieces of himself to show. And he wondered if it made her feel like she was supposed to be shatterproof.
He lifted his palms, which were still covered in dirt and blood. “None of us are invincible. We are not gods. Duty does not come easily. There are days I want to give up and give this crown to anyone else. It takes work to fight, and endure, and rise. And it’s hard to remember. It’s hard to get up every day when staying down is so much easier.”
“What do you do?” she asked. “To remember?”
His eyes met hers. “I remember you.”
She swallowed. He thought she might look to the ground, or say she had to go, but instead, she said, “When I think of peace...I think of our beach, Oro. I think of that sea. And...and I think of you.” She took a shaking breath. “But peace feels like a fantasy.”
Oro wished he could tell her that itwaspossible. That peace and love and that beach could ever be a future for either of them. But if finding the pool had taught him anything, it was that some fates were inevitable. No matter how much they all hoped things could be different.
“I have to believe that there’s always a chance for peace,” Oro said.
Isla smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She took a shaking breath. “That’s worth fighting for, then. For the possibility of peace,” she said, as her form blurred away.
“For a chance at golden beaches and evergreen seas.”
When she was gone, Oro stood, feeling more determined than he had in days. He would fight for her and for the possibility of anafter.
