Skyshade (The Lightlark Saga Book 3) (The Lightlark Saga, 3) (Volume 3)

Oro was bleeding everywhere. His eyes were wide and unblinking.

Saltwater brushed against her legs as she kneeled beside him, hands shaking, rushing to apply pressure against his wound.

“I’m—I’m so sorry, it was—”

An accident. Just like before.

This couldn’t be his end. This couldn’t be the prophecy. She refused to let him die here, on this beach.

Water pooled in her hands, and she closed her eyes and forced herself to anchor through the panic, just like he had once taught her.

She didn’t know how to heal, but Oro had trained her well. He had said that all powers were similar in their execution.

She heard his voice in her head—Focus. She did. She cleared her mind, even as pain and regret and shame raged. For him, she pushed it all away, until her mind was quiet.

The water was warm beneath her skin, prickling against places she had been cut. Threads appeared, waiting to be pulled. She reached for all of them and formed a bond. The water began circling beneath her hand, faster, faster. She opened her eyes to see it gleaming.

Slowly, she reached toward Oro’s wound. She imagined it closing. She imagined the water soothing his pain, washing the blood away. Saving him.

It wasn’t working. He was dying.

His hand inched toward her. Pressed against her heart. She knew him, knew what he was telling her.

It’s all for you. All this time . . . I saved it for you.

She had access to his power. Lightlark wouldn’t fall.

But he would die.

No. She refused. She thought of the beach he had promised to take her to, the one with water the color of her eyes. The one he visited every morning. She thought of the golden rose necklace. She thought of flicking his crown. She thought of him pulling the thorns from her back. She thought of crying in his arms and how he had held her, and comforted her, without having to say a word.

That sort of love didn’t just die. He was right. This bridge between them was like the forever flame, relentless and unyielding.

If this was her fate, then she would fight against it. She would break it, the same way she did the curses.

Fate should fear her, should fear this clawing in her chest, this love that burned and burned.

She pressed harder. She poured power she couldn’t spare into her palm, into him, and watched the sea shimmer. Watched as it twisted into his wound.

Watched as it stitched it together.

She didn’t dare move, didn’t dare break her focus, until his own hand came down over hers. She looked up, to see him staring at her. Blinking.

She choked out a sob. “I’m sorry, I—”

He reached up to cup her cheek. His hand wasn’t nearly as warm as it usually was. She shook her head and sobbed again. “I’m a monster, I—”

“I love you,” he said, even with the blade still in his chest. The one she was afraid to remove, for fear of doing more harm than good.

Her own words died in her mouth.

She shook her head. “You—you should hate me. Don’t you see? I’ll kill you, if you let me.”

He just stared at her. “I’ll never hate you, Isla. I’ll love you until my final breath—even if you’re the reason I’m taking it.”

She didn’t want to be the reason. He was conscious now but still bleeding. They were on a beach, far from help. He needed healing elixir. If only she could portal, to get it. If only she hadn’t given up her starstick.

Slowly, Oro dropped his chin to stare down at his chest. “I’m assuming if I die from this, it won’t fulfill the prophecy.”

She shook her head. Her voice was a feeble whisper. “It’s supposed to be my blade through your heart.”

Clearly, mercifully, it had just missed it.

“Ah,” he said. He winced. “Then this death won’t do. It’ll have been for nothing.” The color in his face was fading. The water was working too slowly.

A sob spilled from her lips. She didn’t know how to get help. She couldn’t leave him here—without the pressure against his wound, he would succumb to his injury. She tried to keep him distracted, calm, hoping the water would be enough. “No. You can’t die, because I don’t know if I would ever be happy again.”

“That’s not true,” he said. “You . . . you love him. I can see that.”

She did love Grim. He did make her happy. Yet . . .

“My heart is halved, Oro. I love him . . . but I could never forget you. I could never not love you.” She swallowed. “And even—”

“Even if you were with me . . . you would still love him.”

She nodded. “You deserve more than that, Oro. Before I remembered my time with him, I loved only you. That was the truth. But now . . .”

Now, things were far more complicated. She felt torn between past Isla and the woman she was now. It was almost as if they were two separate people.

“I don’t care what anyone thinks I deserve.” His breathing was labored. The pain of the injury seemed to be catching up with him. “I want you. I still want you, even though you’re a traitor. I still want you, even though you’re my enemy. I still want you, even though you might kill me. I want you, I want you, I want you, and it is the most selfish thing I have ever felt.”

His eyes fell closed.

She screamed. She pressed against his chest, tears falling against it. She begged the water to work faster. She pulled the bone from her pocket, but it was useless without the right skyre.

He couldn’t die. She loved him. She felt their bond, felt it dimming, and would do anything to stop it. Give anything to stop it.

She pulled her necklace, reached for the other bond, cried out for anyone, anyone to help—

“Heart.”

Isla whipped around to see Grim there, gasping. He was out of breath. Zed was there too. The Skyling rushed over to Oro’s side and brushed her away, taking over the pressure on his wound.

She was in Grim’s arms in an instant. “I—I couldn’t feel you!” she said into his chest.

“I know,” he said, holding up the sword he had retrieved. “We were imprisoned, we—”

He looked behind her. He saw Oro fading. She could see it, clear on his face. He wanted to let him die.

Isla forced him to meet her gaze. “Save him,” she said, her voice a brutal command.

So Grim portaled them all away.

In the castle, she found Wildling elixir, a few leftover vials she had sent to the island. First, though, they had to remove the blade.

Grim roughly pulled it out, clearly taking some pleasure in the way Oro seized in pain. She shot him a look and applied all the elixir onto Oro’s chest and waited. Waited.

When Enya entered the room, her fire-wings flared out of her back immediately. She rushed at Isla in a flash of crackling red, pinning her against the wall. Her hand was at her throat, and her eyes were brimmed in fury. “You did this.”

Grim’s voice was pure malice as he said, “Just checking, heart. You’d be upset if I kill her?”

“Yes,” Isla gasped below the Sunling’s grip, before Starling energy radiated off of her, sending Enya sliding back a few feet.

She couldn’t blame the Sunling for her anger. It was her fault. Enya had been right about her.

The Sunling gave her a look that told her she knew that, before rushing to Oro’s side. She grabbed his hand. Whispered a few words to him that she couldn’t hear. They had been friends for centuries. She could see how much she loved him.

They all waited in the same room, watching as the elixir worked diligently. Oro had lost a lot of blood on the beach. It was a slow, painful process.

Zed was leaned against the wall, staring at the sword in Grim’s hands.

“What happened?” Enya demanded.

Zed looked haunted. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Isla glanced at Grim, who stood a few feet away, glaring at Oro, as if he could personally will him not to recover. He shrugged. “Not me. The thief. They had some sort of . . . quarrel.”

For several agonizing minutes, she watched Oro, panic like claws around her heart, until his pulse began to stabilize again. Her relief was like ice through her veins.

“This ends now,” she said, not wanting to wait a moment longer. Not when Lark had a chance at finding the heart.

“Stay here,” she told Grim. “Make sure he recovers.”

Begrudgingly, he nodded. Then, he portaled her to Remlar, to fetch the cursed blade.

The Skyling was still working on it. “Just a few more minutes,” he said, before turning to her. His eyes glistened. “Now . . . tell me what you really want to know.”

“I can wait,” she said. “Until you’re done with the curse.”

“Don’t insult me. I can do both at once.” He sat cross-legged on the forest floor above the tunnels his people had escaped to, blade between his fingers. She sat in front of him, just like she had during their training. “What is it?”

The prophecy still existed. Lark’s attack didn’t change that. Its importance was clearer than ever, now that she had nearly put a blade through Oro’s heart. “If one had to die—Grim or Oro—who would you choose? Whose death would do the most good?”

His answer seemed obvious, until he said, “Oro.”

Remlar smiled at her shock.

“Why?”

He settled back. “Let me tell you a story.”

Annoyance flared within her. “We don’t have time for a story. People are dying as we speak.”

He continued as if she hadn’t said anything. “There was once a world with three gods. One that ruled the skies. One that ruled the dirt. And one that ruled the great below. All three stuck to their dominions and lived in harmony, until the sky believed it was more important. I have stars, the sky said. I have clouds. I have the sun. I have lightning. It decided it needed to be more powerful, and so it grew, and grew, until it ruled over both the dirt and below. It had children, and those children decided they needed to rule. Other children were born, from the sky, but also the dirt, and the below.

“The sky’s original children decided they didn’t like sharing power. So, they kept all their power to themselves. Anyone not in their family that had power was put to death.

“It wasn’t until, one day, the children of the dirt and the below rose up and fought back for their power. It started a war.

“One of the princes of below and one of the princesses of the dirt dreamed of another world, where everyone would have power, not just the ruling line. They recruited a prince of the sky, and together, they lured their people to a new future.

“Oro, you see, is the last remaining part of this original ruling line. His bloodline has all power trapped within it. If he dies, that power is released. Given back. Nexus will exist no longer.”

Nexus was the curse that bound all rulers to their people. That made another form of rule nearly impossible.

“But nexus is a curse. Killing whoever spun it could end it too. Right? If it was bound to their life?”

“Perhaps . . . but Cronan is in the otherworld. And Oro is here.” Cronan. Remlar had just confirmed he was the ruler who had created nexus. She should have known, but she had assumed he had been dead for millennia . . . now, she knew the truth.

The implication was clear. The only real way for her to end nexus was to kill Oro. It was what Maren had told her, long ago, with the rebels.

“You knew Cronan was alive,” she breathed.

He nodded. “I know a great deal more than anyone wishes.”

His eyes were wicked. His smile was sad.

“You must understand something else, my dear. You are the only person living who is of the sky, the dirt, and the below. You, Isla Crown, bring the gods to their knees.”

Right now, trapped between two unwanted fates, she didn’t feel powerful at all.

“You have been marked,” he continued. “The heart of Lightlark chose to mend your own. Its power was stolen from the otherworld, now it lives in you. No one can be sure how that might manifest.”

She didn’t know what that meant. She didn’t want to be marked or special. She just wanted freedom to do whatever she wanted, without her choices deciding the fate of the world.

But this was her role to play. So, she pulled the piece of parchment from her pocket, along with the bone, and asked him her questions.

“You’ll need great power,” he told her.

“I know,” she said. She swallowed, understanding what she must do. “They’ll never forgive me.” It was a risk. Reckless.

“Then make sure,” Remlar said, “it’s worth it.”