“You have made me so proud,” she said. She reached over and ran her thumb across her cheek.Her mother. She washere.
Isla shook her head. “I have been a fool. I have made mistake after mistake...”
At that, her mother’s eyes went fierce, like a fire still blazed inside of her. She gripped Isla’s hands in hers, and Isla could feel the strength inside, calling to her own. “You have had the weight of fate on you since the day you were born. You were just a child with a crown. You have had to make choices that no one should ever have to make. You have been betrayed by everyone you have ever loved. Even when you were alone...” Her voice shook. “I was always with you. And I was always,alwaysproud.”
“Why?” Isla asked.
“Because through it all, you endured,” she said. She reached toward her heart. “Your heart endured. Your hope endured. Your love for your world endured.”
“I don’t know if I can endure this,” Isla said, feeling that pain, faintly, about to rush back.
“Endure, Isla. Persist. When the world pushes you—you push back.” Her mother squeezed her hands. “Wildflowers bloom even in dead places. There are those who tried to bury you deep, but you are a seed. And you are only now growing. They are going to regret ever thinking you were anything different.”
Tears streamed down Isla’s face, and her mother brushed them away gently. “Endure, Isla,” she said. “Every world is better with you in it.”
Her mother fell away. So did the pool. So did the woman. All that was left was Cronan’s smirk, as he stared her down, like she was just another planet he was intent on breaking.
But she would not break.
Her mind felt plundered, scraped dry, but her wall hiding the pool had not crumbled. He had not seen what she did. The pool and her mother and everything the silver woman had told her—it was her secret.
And now she knew how she would defeat him.
GRIM
They had a shred of something living from Skyshade. The only thing left was energy—and Oro said he knew just where to get it.
Grim flew back to the winter palace on Wraith’s back, feeling hope for the first time in days. It wouldn’t be long now before they could use the portal. Wraith seemed joyful on their flight, darting around to slice through clouds, as if he could sense Grim’s optimism.
“I’m going to get her back,” he said, placing his hand against his dragon’s scales. It wasn’t the first time he had made this promise.
But he had always kept it. Healwayswent after her.
He just hoped she would always come back to him.
Clenching his teeth, Grim thought about what Oro had said. Isla had visited him in a dream too. Grim had meant what he said to his wife—he didn’t blame her for her actions at all. He only blamed himself. It wasn’t jealousy he felt right now, or anger...but fear.
If she chose Oro, he didn’t know what he would do. He wasn’t known for his willingness to share, but he would rather take any piece of her that she was willing to give than lose her completely.
But the prophecy was clear. There was a choice to be made. She couldn’t have both.
As much as he wanted her to choose him, he thought about all those words Oro had hurled at him. They had hit him like daggers.
If Grim made her a worse version of herself...then maybe she was better off without him.
No. He couldn’t think like that. But he could admit, as much as it pained him, that he just wanted her to be happy.
And if a future with Oro made her happier...
He shook away the thought. Isla and Grim were infinite. He had to believe in the strength of their love. Especially now. It was the only thing he had left.
Wind howled around them as they circled the grounds of the winter palace. Wraith loved to fly here—he liked the snow.
Flurries fell now, in gentle sweeps. Wraith made a circle around the grounds. Then another. Then another.
Grim was about to tell his dragon it was time to go home, when his eyes caught the maze. The one he had entered a hundred times before. The one he had escaped to as a child. The one that his father had burned to the ground. The one that had grown back, like a stubborn weed.
The one his wife had left him in.
