She was walking across the Star Isle bridge when she got the feeling she was being followed.
She focused on the ground beneath her, and she could sense the footsteps far away. Walking. Waiting.
She was about to be ambushed. She knew it, and she understood that only one group of people would be so bold, so close to the day of battle.
Isla let them capture her.
She braced herself, and the strings on the other side of the bridge snapped. It swooped down like a pendulum, and a force plucked her from the air, into a carved opening in the side of the Mainland cliff. The ones who had been following her swung in after her.
She rolled inside, her ribs screaming in protest as she tumbled before nearly hitting a wall.
When she opened her eyes, a dozen red masks looked back at her.
She smiled. “I don’t think this is going to go the way you’re hoping,” she said. Then, she twisted her fingers, and the ground grew teeth, trapping them all against the ceiling. She hadn’t killed them.
Not yet.
“Wait,” someone said. One of them fought to get their arm out between the ceiling and rock, to remove their mask. “Before you kill us, please just listen.”
Isla didn’t listen. She lashed out, the ground beneath her shook—
The person got their mask off, and Isla went very still.
“Maren,” she said.
Isla imagined she look crazed. Another Starling she had trusted, betraying her—
“How could you?” she asked, voice shaking. Maren had Cinder. She was a leader.
She had tried to kill her—
“We didn’t mean to hurt you before,” the Starling said quickly. “The Moonling who performed that did not consider the fact that you might . . . drag across the balcony. It was supposed to be simple—”
“What do you want?” Isla demanded. “You have five seconds to explain before I bring this cave down all around us.”
“Do you agree with the system of rule, Isla? You each make decisions that affect us all, whether you intend them to or not. The system of rule is a curse. Our lives being tied together is a curse.”
“No.” Her answer was immediate. She didn’t think it was fair that rulers were born with the bulk of power. “That’s why I’m implementing a democracy on Star Isle.”
Maren nodded. “We heard, and we appreciate it,” she said. “But the current system of rule goes beyond just votes and voices. We have all historically been tied to rulers’ lives, because of the power they alone channel. Do you know why, Isla?”
She shook her head.
“Because thousands of years ago, the king’s ancestors had a Nightshade create a series of curses called nexus, designed to keep the people weak. Everyone—except for his line—was cursed to only be born with a single ability. And people were cursed to be tied to their rulers, so power could never be overthrown. Nexus was meant to keep us all weak. Subservient. Loyal.”
Nexus? She had never heard of it. “How do you know any of this?”
“History was buried. It took centuries for our group to finally gather this information. It started during the curses. You six were the stars of the Centennial, but we regular islanders also worked to break them. We learned that it used to be possible for a person to denounce their power and leave a realm.”
Isla thought about the Vinderland and the serpent-woman, who had left Wildling many centuries ago.
“We believed that if we could figure out how they did it, we could give up our powers and not be bound to the curses. It was a sacrifice many of us were more than willing to make. That led to researching why the ties between the people and their rulers existed in the first place.
“We failed to figure out how to properly denounce our realms, but, after you broke the curses, we realized you could be the answer to all of our problems. You could break the current system of rule.”
Now, Isla was lost. “How could I possibly do that?”
“We believe you have a flair, Isla.”
She didn’t. If she did, she would know it by now, wouldn’t she?
“We believe you are immune to curses.”
“What?”
“You were not cursed, even though you did indeed have power. And you were born with two abilities, Wildling and Nightshade.”
Isla took a step back. How did they know—
“We have members in Skyling,” Maren said. “You practice in the woods.” She should have been more careful. “If we are correct, then you have already inadvertently freed two realms from being tied to your life. Wildling. And now, Starling.”
Her death wouldn’t be the death of everyone she ruled.
She shook her head. She wished more than anything that it was true . . . but none of this made any sense. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me then? Why kidnap me? Why be so secretive?”
Maren glanced at the others. They were all still crushed against the rocks, and Isla loosened her hold on them, just a little. “Because to free all the realms from nexus would require the death of the king. We needed to talk to you without him finding out.”
Isla laughed. She actually laughed. “No,” she said, the word final.
“We haven’t even told you how—”
“I don’t care,” she said, baring her teeth. “I won’t do anything that requires the king dying.”
Maren just looked at her. “Even if it means potentially saving thousands of people?”
She knew how it looked. How could she possibly choose one life over thousands?
Perhaps she wasn’t as good as she thought she was, because she said, “Yes. Even then.”
Without another glance at the rebels, she carved stairs out of the side of the cliff with her power and climbed out of the cave.
That night in bed, Isla wondered if she should tell Oro about them, or ask about the nexus. She quickly decided against it. They were days away from battle. There was enough to deal with.
Isla shifted in the bed and startled when a loud thud broke through the silence.
BEFORE
The noise had come from the center of her room. It was the middle of the night, and something heavy had just thumped against her floor.
She was up in an instant, the long dagger she kept between her bed frame and mattress fisted in her hand.
Squinting through the darkness, she found someone slumped over in front of her bed, their blood staining the stone.
“Hearteater,” he said.
She threw her dagger down and rushed to his side. “Grim?” It had been days since the ball.
He grinned. “I believe you’ll be pleased,” he said, his words labored.
“Will I?” she said, eyes searching his body for where he was bleeding the most, for signs of what could have possibly happened.
“Something got very close to killing me.”
The sinking feeling in her stomach was like a boulder dropping into a river. This information did not please her at all, and she knew he could feel it. “Oh? That is wonderful news,” she whispered.
He nodded. “It is with great regret that I share it did not succeed.”
She shrugged a shoulder. “Not yet, at least.”
He barked out a laugh, then groaned.
Her arms circled his body, and she pressed him against the floor with all the strength she could muster. Shaking hands—from worry, of course from worry—began unbuttoning his shirt.
He made half-sensical comments about her undressing him, but she shushed him, eyes studying the constellation of wounds across his torso. They weren’t like anything she had ever seen before. His skin had turned ashen; the marks were dark. Black veins like roots from a decaying tree wove across him.
“What is this?” she asked. He glanced down at her hands pressed against his chest, and she slowly removed them.
Grim ignored her question. “The elixir, Hearteater. The Wildling flower,” he said.
Then his head fell into her lap and he ceased speaking.
Isla tried to undress Grim properly, but he was too heavy to move all that gently. Instead, she took her knives and cut the clothes off him. She could only imagine what he would say about that.