Five days remained. Isla was back on the Wildling newland. Enya was helping her make the final arrangements for the warriors to travel to Lightlark. The Sunling had already found space for them in the castle, close to Isla. They catalogued the healing elixirs that were left, after she had given a great portion of them to Calder and Soren. Reluctantly, Soren had agreed to let Calder shadow him as he treated the Vinderland. Calder was an eager learner, writing notes, which only seemed to annoy Soren.
Every remaining drop of elixir was crucial.
They both worked without speaking, exhausted, but there was no time to rest. She finished her remaining tasks and, at the end of the day, portaled them back to Lightlark.
In Isla’s overstuffed chairs, they were finally still. After a few minutes of companionable silence, Isla asked, “Do you have anyone? Anyone you’re . . . worried about, beyond Oro, Zed, and Cal?”
“You mean, do I have a partner?”
She nodded.
“Not at the moment. I’ve loved many women through the centuries, but it always seemed selfish to take a wife, knowing . . . what I do.” Knowing when she would die.
The Sunling tilted her head at Isla. Her red hair was vibrant against her pale skin. “You are different than I thought you would be. I like you, Isla, I really do,” she said, and Isla felt the same way. She wanted to tell her, but in the same breath, the Sunling said, “But I don’t like you for him.”
For him.
For Oro.
Isla’s previous love for the Sunling woman hardened into rock. “What do you mean?” she said slowly.
Enya sighed. “May I be honest with you?”
Isla nodded, even though her teeth rubbed together, painfully, behind her lips.
“Oro is king of Lightlark. His duty, from the moment his brother died, was to his people. Not himself. Not me. Not anyone he cares about. I used to hate it. I used to hate that one of the people I loved most would never truly know happiness. Now, I accept it. Because his happiness, and mine, are not more important than the happiness of everyone else on this island.”
Enya filed her fingernails against her pants. “He loves you, and that love is making him weak. If he’s not careful, it will be the death of Lightlark.”
Isla felt her face twist. “How can you say that? How can you paint love as the enemy?”
“Because I’ve watched thousands of people die, I’ve watched devastation for five centuries—all in the name of love.” The curses.
“This is different,” she said.
Enya smiled, and it was sad. She didn’t look cruel, or mean, and that made her words sting even more. “I believe those words have been spoken by every person in love since the beginning of time.”
You don’t know anything about us, Isla thought.
It would have been easy, so easy, so convenient, to ignore Enya’s words as jealousy or misguided advice.
Deep inside, if she really thought about it, she knew Enya was right.
Isla was almost done portaling the rest of the civilians. By tomorrow, only warriors would be left on Lightlark.
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.
“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.
