He came back with a towel and clothing.
“Here,” he said. His voice was a little gruff, and he didn’t meet her gaze. She didn’t mind. His eyes had been locked onto hers for hours, telling her how good this felt, how perfect she was, how well they fit.
Now, it seemed hard for him to look at her.
“Thank you,” she said, her cheeks heating as she remembered what he had said again about herpoliteness. Maybe he was right.
“Don’t—this doesn’t change anything,” he ground out. “I won’t go easy on you in the arena. I won’t let you win.”
“I know,” she said. Finally, he allowed their eyes to meet, but only for a moment. And she saw all the feelings he had tried to bury come flaring to the surface.
She searched, almost desperately, to see if a shred of that bond was there on his side. After everything they had done, she dared herself to hope.
But it wasn’t.
He walked her to the door. Before she could say a word, he slammed it shut.
In the cell, she felt a bite of unease. Maybe she had gotten this all wrong.
They had spentthe entire nighttogether. And she had sworn it had been more than physical. He had touched her like he cared about her pleasure. He had looked at her like she was a goddess to be worshipped.
She knew him. She clung to that belief that she still did, as she turned toward Lark’s ragged shadow. She had barely reformed after being turned to a pile of ash. The feather, which was gripped in her hands, had most certainly helped speed up the process. Isla plucked that feather from her ancestor.
And she got to work.
GRIM
If Grim’s fork wasn’t made of god-bone, it would have snapped beneath his grip.
He ground his teeth as he fought off yet another memory from last night. At the way she—
No. He had meant what he had said. Last night was purely physical. Meaningless.
Regardless, in just an hour, they would both be dead. The heads of planets were already at the crumbling arena. Thousands of people from this world and others had gathered too, excited for the spectacle. It was the entertainment before the invasion.
Commotion sounded outside the galaxy room. Grim ignored it, piercing the piece of meat in front of him. The plate shattered.
Cronan peered at him with narrowed eyes. Before he could say a word, a group of knights burst through the doors.
“What?” Cronan barked.
“The prisoner.”
Grim looked up then.
“What about her?” Cronan demanded.
The knight hesitated for a moment, before saying, “She’s gone.”
Cronan frowned. Grim echoed the movement. Gone? She didn’t have any powers. She had refused his chance to leave. Those bars were made ofimpenetrable steel.
And when I do finally leave this cell...I’m going to break out of it, she had said.
Impossible. Unless—
Lark’s feather. Grim had obscured the marking Isla had healed...but had she sensed it, somehow? Had he let the disguising illusion drop during their night together?
Had she used him for that? Is that why she had been waiting in his room?
