A thousand violent words in her throat, but all of them withered and died when she felt him—every inch of him—against her. Her hips rocked back and forth, ever so slightly, and the friction made her head fall back, her shoulders hike up.
Grim laughed darkly beneath her. “The sight of you, on me . . .” He stopped her, with two hands curved under her backside. He lifted her off him.
She was desperate for his touch, aching—
He gently set her down next to him. He seemed faintly amused by her bewilderment.
“Not tonight, Hearteater,” he said, tucking hair that had fallen across her face behind her ear. “Sleep.”
Isla was flushed with need, with want—
He was too.
Grim chuckled into the darkness. He pulled her toward him, tucking her into his side. “Remember to dream of me,” he said lightly, and she wondered if he knew how often she did.
BEFORE
They stood just out of view of the cave.
“Are you ready?” Grim said.
“Yes. Are you?”
He nodded. While she trained, he had researched the dragon. He had a plan for distracting it.
All Isla had to do was make sure she made it through the trials and to the sword without dying. She crept silently toward the entrance of the cave. The dragon was curled, asleep. She waited, at the edge, for Grim to wake it.
There was a noise outside. The dragon opened an eye and roared.
A massive leg peeked out first. She didn’t even look at Grim or what he was doing. She focused on the thin sliver of opening the dragon offered.
Another leg.
Then the dragon shot out of the cave like a strike of lightning.
Now, her mind said, and she leaped into the cave.
First, the arrows. The ones that had wounded Grim in a dozen places. As soon as she triggered the trap, she moved, hurtling for the opposite side. She watched arrows pierce the ground, exactly where she had been.
Isla swallowed. So close. No time for fear. The dragon was still distracted, but who knew how long it would take for it to realize it was being tricked?
Boulders fell from above, and Isla rolled out of their path. A thousand shards of ice were next, too many to miss, so she lifted the metal shield she had brought with her over her head. It made a torrential sound, and Isla winced, knowing the dragon would hear it.
Faster. She had to be faster. As she hunched over, waiting out the last of the hail, she locked eyes with the sword.
It was sitting in a pile of spoils. Just one of hundreds of relics. She didn’t even look at any of the rest; she just focused on the blade, shining, as if winking hello.
Only a few more steps.
Isla leaped to the side, just missing a hidden pile of spikes.
A spear flew, aimed at her side, but she was faster. She ducked, missing it.
Just two more steps.
A foot before the pile, a tunnel of wind suddenly burst through the cave, a storm blasting. That, she could not duck to avoid. She faced it, full-on, shield in front of her, jaw clamped tight, fighting against its current, barely making it an inch forward. Another inch. She gritted her teeth, groaned, fought forward—
Until it stopped, and she went tumbling. The sword was in her reach.
Just one more step.
She heard a great roar behind her.
Now. It had to be now.
Her hand reached for the sword. The moment she had it in her grasp, they could portal away. The dragon was coming. Her fingers brushed its hilt. It felt cold under her touch, before warming. Waking up. She turned around, to see where Grim was, to tell him that she got it.
Only to see a flood of fire filling the cave.
It was too late. She wouldn’t reach her starstick fast enough. Flames poured in to the brim, hurtling toward her. There was only time to turn her head. The sword sparkled prettily. She hadn’t even gotten the chance to fully grip it. Isla prepared to be burned alive.
Before the flames caught her, shadows filled the cave. They wrapped around her, shielding her. Saving her.
The fire cleared. The shadows fell away.
And Isla watched the sword vanish.
. . .
Grim had saved her. He had used his powers, knowing it would mean giving up the sword. And it had disappeared.
“Why did you do that?” Isla said. She had bathed and changed into one of her dresses. Grim had gotten changed in his own chambers and returned here, to her room in her castle.
She was grateful he had . . . but it didn’t make any sense.
Grim’s eyes locked on hers. “You think I would watch you die, for the sword? Did you think I would make any choice that wasn’t you?”
“Yes,” she said, incredulous. “You said so.”
He just looked at her. “Things changed.”
She realized then that she would have done the same. She would have chosen him.
“But your realm . . . you said you need it. For you, it’s the most important thing in the world.”
“My realm does need it,” he said. He traced his fingers down her temple and said, in the quietest of voices, “But it is not the most important thing in the world.”
She looked at him, really looked at him. Saw pain in his eyes, as he assessed her for any injuries, even though he had already done so before she had bathed. Saw patience as she scowled and told him again that she was fine.
She didn’t see regret.
“I touched it. For a moment, I touched it. Maybe I’ll be able to find it again now that it knows me.”
“Isla,” he said gently. “I don’t want to use the sword anymore.”
Her brows came together. “What? Why?”
“Its cost is too high,” he said thoughtfully.
It seemed Grim had changed his mind about the sword in the time between entering the cave and saving her. It didn’t make any sense.
“How are you going to save your realm now?” she asked. “How are you going to stop the dreks?”
Grim lifted a shoulder. “I’m going to use my power, the same as always. Use myself as a shield.” He grinned, and she knew it was solely for her benefit, to make light of a devastating situation. “I make a decently good one, wouldn’t you agree?”
The thought of him, shielding his entire realm from the dreks. Only his power against theirs . . .
“Will you still keep your promise?” she asked, attempting a smile back. “To help me at the Centennial?”
Grim grinned wider.
“Of course, Hearteater,” he said. “It’s going to be fun pretending not to know you. To introduce myself to you.”
He was right. No one could know they were allies. No one could know they had known each other for months. They would have to pretend to be strangers.
“To pretend I don’t know that you love chocolate, and touching your hair, and that you blush when I look at you for more than a few seconds. Or that you hate the cold and love to dance and you frown when you lie.” His words were so soft. So unlike him. He tucked her hair behind her ear. “You really do, by the way,” he said. “You should work on that before the Centennial.”
She blushed, because he had been looking at her for more than a few seconds. She felt tears stinging her eyes, because he knew her.
He really knew her. He’d been paying attention.
What a thing, to be known.
Isla’s voice was thick with emotion when she said, “And it will be fun pretending like I don’t know the shadows at your feet puddle when you’re happy. Or that, for some reason, you’ve had healers remove every one of your scars, except for the one I gave you. Or that you have a magnificent tub in your bathroom, and an even more magnificent ego.” She bit her lip. “And that, even though I hated you, really, really hated you . . . whenever I’m not with you, whenever I’m with anyone else, I feel hopelessly alone.”
He took her hand, and she said, “At the Centennial . . . we’re going to be strangers.”
“No,” he said. “We could never be just strangers.”