“You haven’t been able to locate the ore yet?” Oro asked.
Zed shook his head. “We’re working on it, but the Forgotten Mines are tough to navigate, and the ores are almost impossible to extract. We should be able to get some soon, though.”
“We need that metal,” Enya said. “Making arrows for the Skylings should be the priority. They’ll be crucial in the air, so those creatures don’t pick us all off.”
Yes. The Skylings would be critical. Without them at the coronation, many more people would have died.
Just then, Azul rushed in, wind on his back. “Apologies. The meeting went . . . longer than anticipated.” Isla noticed Azul’s typically jovial tone was completely missing. His expression was grave. He didn’t even bother sitting down, before saying, “We have a problem.”
“My people want to leave Lightlark,” Azul said.
The world came to a halt. No one moved a muscle. Isla remembered how silent the Skyling representatives had been during their meeting.
No. They had already lost Moonling. They couldn’t lose another realm. Wildling and Starling were the smallest; even with her people fighting, it wasn’t enough—
“It’s decided?” Calder asked.
“Not yet. But there will be a vote soon, and it isn’t looking good.”
Oro’s eyes were raging amber. “We need you in the skies.” His hands were pressed firmly against the table.
“I know,” Azul said. “I want to fight. It is not my choice, however. My realm—”
“The island will fall,” Oro said, his voice rising. “You understand that would be the end of your people. One generation, maybe two, and then the power you draw from would dry up.”
Azul sighed. His eyes were bloodshot. He looked tired, like he had been up all night arguing with his representatives. “I know that, Oro,” he said. “I do. But in the end, it will be their decision.”
“How do we change it?” Enya said. “There has to be something they want. Something your realm needs.”
Azul shook his head. “I spoke to them for hours. I don’t think there’s any changing their mind. There will be debates. Then, a vote.” He didn’t look hopeful. Azul’s eyes were burning then, filled with meaning he hadn’t put into words, as he looked at them. “I’m sorry,” he said.
He left the room, and there was silence.
Heat swept across them all. Oro’s brow was pinched. He ran a hand down his face.
“If we lose Skyling, we lose the war,” Enya said. Her eyes were on the table. She was leaned back in her chair. “The winged beasts will decimate us, if Grim brings them, even if we do manage to find the special metal.”
“Then we can’t lose Skyling,” Zed said.
She threw her hands up. “You heard him, Skylings cannot be bought or bartered with. Nothing we have could convince them.”
Oro pressed two fingers against the side of his head. “The Skyling vote will take time. We have to operate under the assumption that we will lose the flight force and a large part of our legion.”
“We need more soldiers, then,” Zed said. He leaned farther back in his chair. “Calder and I already went to the corners of Lightlark. Gathered all the outside communities. Most have agreed to fight. Without Moonling and Skyling, it’s still not enough though, and we’ve exhausted our allies.”
A thought occurred to Isla. Oro’s eyes met hers as she said, “Then what if we turn to our enemies?”
“Which enemies?” Enya asked.
“The Vinderland.” The violent group they had encountered on their search for the heart of Lightlark.
“Absolutely not,” Oro said.
“We’re desperate, Oro,” she said. “We just likely lost another realm.”
“We’re not that desperate,” he said through his teeth.
“We need more warriors. They are warriors.”
Oro shook his head, unbelieving. “Do I need to remind you that I watched them put an arrow through your heart?”
He didn’t need to remind her. She saw the angry mark in the mirror every time she got dressed. If it hadn’t been for the power of the heart of Lightlark, and Grim saving her, she would be dead.
Isla shrugged a shoulder. “That’s in the past. We need them now. And we have a common enemy. They already hate Moonlings, right? They’ll likely hate them more now that they’ve teamed up to destroy their home.”
“Who they hate most is Wildlings,” Oro said pointedly.
Isla knew that. Oro had told her during the Centennial that the Vinderland used to be Wildlings, far before the curses ever existed. She stood from her chair without breaking his gaze. “But I am not just Wildling,” she said. She was also Nightshade. The Vinderland were not the only people who lived in the shadows of the island. There were other night creatures they had encountered during the Centennial. Perhaps she could convince them to fight.
Remlar had said it before—she’s one of us. She had pushed her darkness down. Perhaps she could use it.
“No,” Oro said.
Isla stood her ground. “Are you telling me I can’t?”
A muscle in his jaw worked. “You are free to do as you wish,” he said. “But this is reckless.” His face softened. “We have time. We don’t know if we’re losing Skyling yet.”
At the end of the meeting, Enya stayed back with Isla. When Oro was out of earshot, she said, “He is blinded when it comes to you. He forgets his duty.” She placed a hand on her shoulder. “If you decide to go to the Vinderland for help, I will go with you.”
With Skyling likely gone, Isla’s memories became more important than ever. She trained with Remlar any chance she could. He taught her use of her shadows.
Now, he stopped in front of a tree. It was so wide five men would not be able to link hands and reach around it.
“This is a kingwood,” he said. “It takes hundreds of years for it to get this big. This one has seen all the Centennials, Egan’s rule, and even that of his father.”
Isla pressed a hand against it. The thread between it and her was clear. Shining.
“Kill it.”
She blinked. “What?”
Remlar’s expression didn’t change. “Use your Nightshade powers. And kill it.”
“No.” Her answer was immediate. She was the ruler of Wildling. Her allegiance was to nature, not the darkness. She was here only to pry the memories from her mind.
Remlar raised an eyebrow. “Have you killed people before, Wildling?”
She thought about the Moonling nobles, blood puddling on the abandoned docks. Countless others who were hazy in her mind . . . almost masked. By time. By him.
“Yes.”
“Yet you won’t kill a tree?”
Isla glared at him. “The people I killed deserved it. This tree has done nothing. Who am I to end it? For the sake of . . . practice?”
Remlar frowned. “Practice? I thought you needed answers. Answers to how to save thousands of people. A tree is but a small sacrifice.”
“No,” she said again.
Remlar grinned. “You have killed countless plants. When I untangled your powers, you destroyed an entire forest.”
“That was an accident!”
“Does it change the fact that you are responsible for killing the woods?”
Isla closed her eyes tightly. No. It didn’t.
Remlar sighed. “Nature is a flowing force,” he said. “You destroy one tree, you create another. Pick one flower, plant another. The ash it turns into becomes fertilizer for another. It is a never-ending turning of a wheel, and there is no ending, or beginning, just constant turning, turning, turning.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“The tree does not care if you kill it,” he said. “It will return as something better, something different. Everything that is ruined—especially by your hand, especially here—is reclaimed, remade.”
Could that be true?
Remlar said it again. “Kill the tree. Leech it of its life . . . then create something new.”
Create something new. If Remlar was right, she wasn’t truly killing it . . . just turning it into something different.