Soren frowned. “You believe he has the same ambitions as his father?” Grim’s father went to war against Lightlark, Isla knew, decades before the curses. Nightshade wanted control of the island.
“Perhaps,” Oro said. “All we know for certain is that Nightshade is more powerful than ever now that the curses are broken and our realms are divided. We must work together again to present a united front.”
There were murmurs of agreement, and hushed whispers that sounded curious about the idea of a Nightshade attack.
“Speaking of working together . . .” Soren said. His attention turned to Isla. “All of the Wildlings fled Lightlark. How is your realm faring?”
After the curses, Isla had injected power into her lands, to save her people while she recovered. Late at night, with her portaling device, she had visited them in secret. “Wildlings have begun shifting their primary food source.” She saw clear disgust on Soren’s face, which she guessed had to do with the fact that her people had previously subsisted on human hearts. “My people have already started harvesting their own crops, but we will need aid to achieve an assortment of diet and agriculture now that they are dependent on farming. I—”
“How many of you are left?” Soren interrupted.
She frowned. “I’m not sure. As you know—”
“You’re not sure?” Soren asked, eyebrow raised.
She could feel her face go hot. It was a reasonable question. The kind a good ruler would know the answer to.
“Do most of your people know how to wield power?”
“I don’t know.”
“How is housing? What has the rate of reproduction been in the last century?”
“I will have to find out,” she said through her teeth.
“Do you—”
“Enough,” Oro said. He turned to the Moonling. “Soren, I’m sure Isla would love to have you visit the Wildling newland if you are so curious about her people.”
Soren looked like he would rather stick his fork in his eye, but he went silent.
Isla’s gaze didn’t leave the table. Her throat felt tight. Her breathing was constricted, as though her lungs had shrunk to half their normal size.
She didn’t deserve to be a ruler. She had known that for a while, but Soren’s line of questioning had thrown her lack of wisdom in sharp relief. Poppy and Terra had ruled the realm while she trained for the Centennial, and now they were gone. She had banished them.
For the first time, Isla wondered if that had been a mistake.
The Starling representative who had announced herself as Maren cleared her throat. There was an intensity to her, an energy that coursed through the room. “For centuries, we have been an afterthought. A blip in your ancient lives. We have been treated as disposable by many. Taken in the middle of the night. Subjected to labor, and torture, and sometimes worse.” She looked at the king. “You executed those found guilty, but so many fell through the cracks.” She grimaced. “Star Isle is in ruins. I can’t imagine the newland is faring much better.” She looked to Isla. “We need a ruler.”
How could the Starling seriously be looking at Isla for help, after seeing how badly she had just recounted her own realm’s condition?
Soren frowned. “What you ask is impossible. One cannot be the ruler of two realms.”
“She did receive the full power of a Starling ruler,” Azul remarked.
Soren barked out a laugh. “The girl can’t even rule her own realm. Now you’re ready to give her two?”
“The girl has a name—and a title,” Oro said, his voice cutting through the room. “You will address her with the respect you give all rulers, or I will use you as kindling for the castle hearth.”
Isla stiffened. Oro’s defense had been sharp. She glanced at the faces around her, but they looked abashed rather than suspicious.
Soren’s eyes flashed, but he bowed his head in respect. “Forgive me, King.”
“Don’t apologize to me,” Oro told him.
Soren begrudgingly turned to Isla and said, “I apologize, Ruler.” Isla just stared at him. He turned back to the king. “With respect,” he said, his s pronounced in a particularly serpentine manner, “it does not seem wise to give a single ruler that much power . . .” He hesitated, considering his words. “You, King, are the only one meant to preside over multiple realms.”
Oro’s look at the Moonling was just one shade away from casting flames. “Azul is correct. She has the full powers of a Starling ruler, and, might I remind us all, is the sole reason any of the Starlings are still alive.” He turned to Isla. “The responsibility is hers to accept.”
Isla was silent. She couldn’t decide like this right now. As much as she wanted to put a dagger through him, Soren was right. She had just demonstrated, very publicly, that she had no idea how to properly rule a single realm, let alone two. Two of the weakest realms, the most ravaged by the curses; the ones currently in need of the most support.
“How would that work?” the woman with the dark-red hair said. Enya. Her voice was raspy and deep. She carefully appraised Isla, tilting her head to the side. “Would she be coronated? Officially announced as ruler? She already has the power; it would simply be a matter of ceremony.”
“The public will not like it,” the Skyling woman—Bronte—murmured, though not unkindly. She was simply voicing a fact.
“Of course they won’t like it,” Maren murmured under her breath. “It would make it more difficult for them to continue to exploit us.”
“What was that?” the old Sunling said, a touch too loudly, genuinely seeming as if he had not heard her.
“This is all going very well,” Soren said offhandedly to the giant Sturm, who did not so much as blink in recognition that he was being spoken to.
“I said,” Maren started, her voice growing in intensity, frustration and anger building in her expression—
“I’ll do it,” Isla said, standing, putting a bookmark in the plaited conversations.
Silence.
“Are you certain?” Oro said, holding her gaze. He looked at her like they were the only two people in the room.
“Yes,” she said, not certain in anything but the fact that Maren clearly knew Isla was not the best leader . . . and she had asked for her help anyway. The Starlings must be desperate. She was not the right choice for this—of course she wasn’t.
No, that wasn’t right. She would become the right choice.
Isla couldn’t deny them, especially now after she’d heard of the atrocities that had gone on for the last few centuries. Who was she, if she sat and did nothing after learning of that horror? What would be the point of killing her best friend and breaking the curses if Lightlark and its people descended into chaos soon afterward?
“I will officially become the new ruler of Starling,” she said, meeting Soren’s eyes. “I will have a coronation.”
CHOICES
“I don’t know how to rule,” she admitted. Azul sat in front of her in Juniper’s old bar. The spheres of liquor behind the counter were still filled. The curved chairs and tables hadn’t collected even a spot of dust yet. The body and blood had been taken care of, but Isla was almost back to that day, weeks before, finding him dead. With Celeste.
Aurora.
The barkeep who kept secrets had died because of her. He had helped her. He was one of the only islanders who had helped her.
It made her want to be better—worthy of his sacrifice.
“A very dramatic declaration you gave. I quite liked it.” Azul leaned back in his chair, a glass of sparkling water glittering in front of him, bubbles popping and releasing a berrylike scent. “Do you want to rule, Isla?”
No. That was her first response. But it seemed too selfish to say aloud, so she said, “Do I have a choice?”
The Skyling ruler raised an eyebrow. “You always have a choice.”