“I do,” he said, and she thought her heart might burst from happiness. He tilted his head, taking her in, and then there was no doubt. He was gazing at her like he had a thousand times before, like he couldn’t get enough, like he never wanted to look at anything else again. She smiled.
But then—his entire face changed. His grip on her face tightened. “I just don’t care.”
The raging leaves around them fell to the ground, turned to dust.
And Isla’s entire body went cold as she felt that force behind her—that of picked-apart galaxies and upturned worlds and endless death. His approaching footsteps rang through the woods he had already partially destroyed. He carved a path of ruin, and every remaining tree and flower and leaf withered until they were standing in ashes.
Cronan’s laugh echoed through the emptiness.
“You were right, Grimshaw. She took us right to the forest.”
No.
She stumbled out of Grim’s hold, calling to her powers, energy and fire encircling her—but then Cronan said, “Try anything, and he dies.”
That’s when Isla saw the shadow-dagger floating in the air, its blade pressed right against Grim’s heart.
Her husband’s abilities were extraordinary. But he did not wear a crown of broken worlds. If Cronan wanted to plunge that blade into Grim’s heart, both he and Isla would be powerless to stop it.
She stopped fighting. The fire and energy around her died.
“Who knew it was so easy to get you to do my bidding?” Cronan drawled. “Who knew you would be so foolish as to still harbor feelings over a husband who doesn’t want you at all?” He shook his head, stepping over what was left of their memories. “To be broken so easily...that love must have never been very strong to begin with.”
Isla’s eyes burned as she watched her husband back away from her—to Cronan’s side. The dagger moved with him, its tip trained at his chest.
With a simple flick of Cronan’s hand, Isla’s body lurched forward, toes of her boots dragging through the dirt, until he held her throat in his fist. Her entire body was under his control as he forced her to raise her arm...and reach toward that dagger. Her fingers curled around its hilt.
She swallowed. No.No. This was not how their story ended. Her hand shook, fighting against Cronan’s hold. But even with her powers, she couldn’t stop him from forcing her wrist forward—
And blood began to puddle.
Her blood roared in her ears. Grim wasn’t moving out of the way—was it because he couldn’t? Was Cronan controlling his body too? Or had Grim meant what he said when he told her he couldn’t remember a life worth living?
But before the blade could go any deeper, Cronan made her pause. One move...one second...and the prophecy would be fulfilled.
Isla trembled with rage as Cronan said, “Now. Take me to the Pool of Possibilities, or you kill your husband.”
GRIM
She meant nothing to him. So why were his hands in fists as he watched his ancestor drag her through the forest?
Ever since Cronan had trained that dagger against his heart, she had given up. The fight had left her completely.
Forhim. Though he had racked his brain for any other motivations, he couldn’t find any. She could have escaped from Cronan several times over the last few days. She could have gone home and left Grim here.
But she hadn’t. She had brought him to this forest. She was still trying to get him to remember things he never would. She was a stubborn fool.
So why did part of him feel raw and strange, knowing someone cared enough about him to doom themselves too?
The memories she had shown him in the forest had felt like watching strangers. It was odd, seeing a version of himself he didn’t recognize in the slightest. But he had to admit he could see slivers of reasons he might have developed feelings for her.
No, not feelings.Weaknesses. Cronan had been right. The witch had made him soft. He didn’t want to become the Grim from the memories, who had put one woman over everyone in his realm.
But even if his death wasn’t imminent, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to become Cronan either, living alone in the ashes of a world he destroyed. Was that Grim’s future, if he somehow survived Isla’s death? All that he had to look forward to if he stayed on this path?
Was it a coincidence that Grim couldn’t remember the last time he had been happy? Or was it because all the memories with her had been lost?
Is it becauseshehad become his happiness?
