“First my dreams...must you haunt my waking hours too?” His voice was gruff. “How are you doing this, by the way?” He had just gotten back to his throne room after a meeting with his friends and Maren. Cinder was needed in the defense against the beasts from the portal, and some days, she was the only reason any of them were still alive.
But they couldn’t keep doing this. They needed help.
It was only then that he realized he needed Grim to get it. And now that he was gone...
But Oro forgot all of that when he saw Isla—part of him felt a sharp longing at the sight of her, as if his mind hadn’t fully understood that she had left him. She didn’t answer his question.
“How is Grim?” he asked, tightly.
She closed her eyes at the sound of his name, as if the reminder of him hurt, but she quickly buried the emotion. “The same.”
Before he could ask more, she was speaking again. “Cronan thinks he can turn me to his side,” she said. “He’s going to destroy our world in three weeks, Oro.”
He cursed. The worst part was he didn’t even know if their island would survive three more weeks of the beasts’ attacks.
She must have seen the dread on his face, because her expression twisted with concern.
“Are you—are you okay?” She leaned forward, as if she could somehow reach him.
A wave of defensiveness rose within him. “Do you think I’m okay, Isla?” Fire flickered around him.
Now that he was using emotions to wield—something he had warned Isla against so many times—his felt unmoored. Sometimes he wondered whether his feelings were fueling his powers, or his powers were controlling his emotions.
Her mouth tightened. She had the decency, at least, to look regretful. The concern didn’t leave her eyes as she studied him, though, and he wondered what she saw. “You’ve changed.”
He stood from his flaming throne and strode toward her. He felt his skin ignite. The floor around him burned. “If I’ve changed,” he said, “it’s because you changed me.”
Her eyes widened, glistening with unshed tears.
And that made this new, uncontrollable rage within him flame. “I wish I never met you,” he said. “I really do.”
A tear slipped down her cheek.
Oro just shook his head. Usually, he would bury these words and feelings down, but they all spilled out of him, messy and raw. “I wish I never met you, because even after everything...I still. Fucking. Want.You,” he said, and he felt ready to sink to his knees, as if he could beg her to release him from this bond.
“Even if you don’t want me too. Even if you kill me. I realize now...there is nothing that could make me not love you. And I am afraid of what that love will lead to.”
The flames around him roared higher. Soon, the room was full of them. He stood at the center of it all, in front of the woman who still had his heart, even though she was the one who had broken it.
He closed his eyes, and when he couldn’t see her, he finally got a hold of these feelings. He swallowed, taking a breath. Trying to shove it all down, until he could speak more clearly.
His voice was softer now. “I can’t save us from this,” he admitted.“You’re right. I’m not myself. Our world deserves better than me. But there’s no one else.”
He opened his eyes again, and she gasped. He guessed they had changed again. He didn’t really care. His newly changing eyes were the least of his worries.
But Isla did not look afraid, not like his friends did. Instead of turning away, she moved closer, toward the flames—toward him.
She reached out and took his blazing hand, like she wasn’t afraid of getting burned.
And he could feel her as if she was truly right in front of him. A force jolted through his blood at that touch, and it was undeniable. Something still existed between them, a bridge that remained on both sides.
She squeezed. “You are lost...” she said. “And I’m so sorry that I did this to you. But you are still the noblest, strongest person I have ever met,” she said. “I see it now, even if you don’t. No storm can uproot you. No tide can unmoor you. I will remind you. Just as you reminded me.”
Oro remembered those days, trying to train Isla in powers he himself had never wielded. He had been the picture of control for centuries. And now, he was splitting at the seams. Breaking when the world needed him most.
He winced. He didn’t want to lose control. He didn’t want all of this and his ancestors’ sacrifices to be for nothing.
She squeezed his hands. “Don’t look at the past,” she said. “Look at me.” He did. And he fell into endless green. His spring. His summer. His life. His love.
