Now, she was just tired, more mentally than physically. All she wanted was time to recover, and why did even thinking that make her feel like the most selfish person on Lightlark?
Luckily, she had an excuse other than her own unwillingness. “You know I can’t.” As king, Oro was the last remaining Origin who could wield each of the remaining Lightlark powers—Skyling, Starling, Moonling, and Sunling. It was supposed to be impossible for anyone other than his line to be born with more than one ability. According to Aurora—whom she had once thought to be her best friend, Celeste—her Wildling and Nightshade gifts were tangled together in a way that made them largely useless unless a Nightshade released them. “My powers—”
“I have a plan for that.”
Of course he did. Her teeth stubbornly locked together. “I don’t have time to train. I have to get back to the Wildlings.”
“They will need you to be at your utmost strength.”
Why was he so set on her training? And why, truly, was she so against it? “It’s a distraction,” she tried. “I can learn later. After they’re taken care of. After we’ve figured out the Nightshade threat, if my vision is even real.”
“You have the power of a Starling ruler now, Isla,” Oro said gently.
When Isla killed Aurora, she had used an ancient relic called the bondmaker to steal all the Starling’s power. The action served as a loophole to fulfill the part of the prophecy that stated a ruler had to die to break the curses. A ruler’s power functioned as the life force of their people. All Starlings would have died along with Aurora, if Isla hadn’t stolen that power.
Now, she was responsible for two realms, when she wasn’t even qualified to rule one.
“Your Wildling and Nightshade powers might have stayed dormant all this time,” he continued, “but this will not. The abilities are too great. If you don’t learn how to control them, they will control you.”
That seemed unlikely. In the last couple of days, she had casually tried to use her Starling powers. To move a quill. To make a burst of energy off her balcony. Nothing. She would have doubted that the bondmaker had even worked if the Starlings weren’t still alive.
“Isla,” Oro said, and the tender way he said her name dulled the defensive edges of her anger and pain, just a little.
“Yes?”
He took a step, then another, until she was bathed in his warmth, even though he was still farther than she would have liked.
Oro studied her from the foot of her bed. “Say you’ll train with me. And mean it.”
“Fine,” she said quickly, just because she knew it was what he wanted to hear. Just because nowadays, she would do anything to stop thoughts about the Centennial and what had happened. “I’ll train with you. I mean it.”
“Your excitement is overwhelming,” he said flatly.
“I am excited,” she said through her teeth.
His look sharpened. “You do realize I know you’re lying?”
Of course he did. That was his flair, the extra power rulers often carried from distant bloodlines. She imagined fate laughing at the irony of their pairing: a liar loved by someone who could sense the truth.
Instead of glaring at Oro, she was happy to turn the attention back to him. Curiosity made for the best distraction. Wasn’t that all life was, she reasoned, painful moments strung together by distractions? “What does it feel like?” she asked, sitting straighter on the bed.
The thin sleeve of her dress dipped down her shoulder. She watched him track its fall.
“What does what feel like?” he asked, eyes lingering on her newly bare shoulder.
Something thrummed in her chest. She hadn’t often noticed Oro staring at her. Until the moment when Aurora confirmed the king loved her, she hadn’t even thought he had liked her.
One of her bare legs ran the length of the bed, slowly, until her toe reached the floor. Her dress rode high up her thigh, and she could feel the heat of his eyes on her. She did the same with the other leg, until both feet were by the bedside.
He studied her, top to bottom, and suddenly the vault was forgotten. Her inadequacy—forgotten. The betrayals? Forgotten.
Part of Isla wondered if he was still just looking at her to see if she was okay, but no, no, it was far better to believe he was watching her for other reasons.
“When someone lies to you. What does it feel like?” She drifted over to him, barefoot, her back slightly sore from her rough landing. Her head pounded in pain, the wound just recently healed by her Wildling elixir, but she ignored it.
He remained very still as she stopped before him.
“Does it hurt?” She tilted her head. “Does anything really hurt you?”
The look he gave her made it clear he wasn’t going to answer the second question, so she tried the first again. “Do the lies hurt?”
Oro was so tall, he had to crane his neck down to look her right in the eyes. He reached out and ran his thumb across the divots of her crown. “It depends on who’s telling them.”
Guilt sank its teeth into her chest. The idea that her lies had hurt him inexplicably made her hurt as well.
Was that what it meant to love someone?
She had lied to him throughout the Centennial, but he had never lied to her. She knew that now for certain. He was the only person she trusted in the world, though she realized trusting anyone after what had happened was astronomically foolish.
Was that love?
Isla placed her hand on his chest and felt him stiffen. He was warm in a comforting way that made her want to feel his bare skin beneath her fingers. He did not move an inch as she got closer—and closer still.
They had barely talked about the connection between them, the undeniable thread. He had let her have her space. She had wanted to take things slow. Not rush in, the way she had with Grim.
But at that moment, she didn’t want any space between them.
She stood on her toes, wanting to bridge the gap between her lips and his, finally, but no matter how long she stretched her neck, she couldn’t reach him.
Oro stared down at her and frowned. “Is this your attempt to distract me?”
Absolutely. She didn’t want to master her powers. She didn’t want to think about any of her newfound abilities. Once she started, she would have to think about things—and people—that had scarred her, perhaps beyond repair. “Yes. Let me?”
He lowered his head. His golden crown winked in the light.
Then his hands were on her waist. His fingers were long across her back; she arched into his touch. He grabbed her, so tightly she gasped—
But before she could wrap her legs around his waist, he carried her to the bed . . .
. . . and dropped her back onto the sheets.
By the time she made a sound of protest, he was at the door. “Rest, Isla,” he said. “The dinner is in a few hours.” She groaned. It was the first time representatives were all meeting, to discuss the aftermath of the curses. “Then, we’ll begin our training.”
FLOATING FEAST
“Make me look like a sword,” Isla had told the Starling tailor Leto. “One that’s more blood than blade.” A mixture of Wildling and Starling. That was what she wore as she swept into the dining room.
The Sunling nobles had arrived early with their ruler. They were already seated when Isla walked through the doors, and when their eyes went straight to her—sharp and hungry—she had the unnerving feeling of being the very thing they had come to pick at and consume.