Isla
And met Lark’s, across the dark cell.
Why hadn’t he?
Lark gave her a withering look. “The day you die is when I’ll feel my last shred of happiness.” She scowled. “The only death that would make me happier would be his.”
She couldn’t lose hope. He hadn’t killed her. And that had to mean something.
It wasn’t long before Grim was in front of the cell again.
A million moments hung between them, like stars strung on their own galaxy, a constellation of memories.
But he just looked at her like she was nothing.
Lark laughed, a bitter croaking sound that echoed through the cell, as he opened the door and dragged Isla out.
There was no affection in his touch. His grip was punishing. He barely spared her a glance.
“Grim,” she said. He had to have heard the way his name was so familiar on her tongue. But he said nothing as he pulled her through the dank, silent tunnels of the dungeon.
“You—you’re the man I fell in love with. This isn’t you. You would never do this. Why do you think you’re here in the first place?”
“Silence,” he snarled, his grip tightening, and the words died in her throat.
She would show him, prove to him, that their love was worth saving. She just needed to get him to listen.
“He’s going to kill me,” she said quickly as they reached the end of the hall, wondering if the idea of her death, which had made him bind himself to her, would bring the memories back.
But his look was blank as he said, “I’m going to kill you. But not yet.”
Then, he shoved her into the blinding light of the castle.
He held both of her hands behind her back in just one of his own as he steered her down another hall. That touch that used to be so soft, and used to make chills ripple down her arms, now felt like walking the edge of a cliffside.
She was never in the castle corridors this late in the day and was surprised to see it bustling.
Cronan was not alone here as she had thought.
They passed not only faceless knights in their altered shademade armor but also swaths of people dressed in strange, otherworldly clothing in a variety of glistening shades.
They looked dressed for celebration . . . was something happening?
Most were caught up in conversations and didn’t even notice her walking by.
But a man wearing scaled green fabrics watched her and smirked.
He had pale skin and hair cut close to his scalp.
He had the air of a man used to being bowed to.
She felt his energy reach out, almost tasting her, and she nearly vomited.
If she had full access to her powers, she would have incinerated him where he stood.
But she didn’t, and she was dragged through the hall until the tall doors of the galaxy room were opened, and then she was pushed inside.
Cronan was waiting, his back to her. He was looking up at his domed ceiling, at all the worlds he had conquered. From this angle, his crown pointed at her like a dozen daggers.
Part of it was noticeably broken, as if he hadn’t gotten all the pieces to fit.
His voice echoed through her as he said, “My progeny has convinced me you still have more use. And it’s true that you still have something I need . . . I was going to pick it off your corpse, but now . . .”
He turned, and she was pulled by an invisible source straight toward him.
Her heels screamed against the polished floor as she tried to fight it.
When she almost reached him, she was thrust onto the ground.
Her head bounced off the cold marble, her hair puddling around her.
She gasped, seeing a flash of light, before her vision slowly bled back into that black expanse above, dotted with those glimmering planets.
Cronan approached slowly until he was right above her. Only then did she feel herself go taut, fully under his control. Her arm lifted sharply, toward the ceiling, as though she was no more than a puppet.
Then her mother’s charm slithered up from the cover of her sleeve.
No.
“Yes,” he hissed, his voice pure satisfaction. “I saw this in your mind, before you attacked me . . . I’m certain you thought I wouldn’t live to use it.”
The charm her mother had left her, full of her flair—the ability to see the future. The silver woman had told Isla to look, to see the two paths she could have taken, but she hadn’t listened. She should have listened. And now she’d lost the chance to forever.
Cronan broke the chain and plucked the charm clean off. The rest of the metal fell onto the floor, useless. He snapped the rest onto his crown, and it melted into the metal, fusing completely.
Gone. Her mother’s power . . . her only gift . . . it was gone.
Cronan jolted, his posture rigid, his eyes changing. Transforming. His irises slid back into his skull. Slowly, his lips turned into a sickening smile.
All at once, shadow and smoke swallowed the room as illusions swept through it.
She saw herself. Standing in front of Grim. Smiling. Telling him she loved him.
Then plunging an unfamiliar blade through his heart. She watched as his face drained of color, as crimson pooled on the ground below him, as he collapsed against her, knee to knee.
Isla’s blood roared. She fought the urge to be sick. Tears stung her eyes.
The shadows cleared, and Isla saw Grim standing behind Cronan, glaring at her with even more hatred than before. She tried to protest, to explain, but her throat was constricted. She couldn’t move.
Cronan set a hand on Grim’s shoulder. The two of them next to each other looked like a ruinous pair, with unmatched power.
Isla could feel any last hope in convincing Grim of their love story vanish as Cronan said, “You see, this is your future. She will kill you. She will be the end of this dynasty. She must die. Unless . . .”
The smoke cracked like a whip, swept toward the ceiling, then changed. Isla saw herself again. But this time, she was plunging that very same blade into Oro’s heart. She watched the light fade in his amber eyes.
Bile crawled up her throat, and she nearly choked on it.
“Unless she joins us. Unless she throws away all loyalties to her previous life and helps us reshape the universe . . . together.”
At once, the illusion broke, and she was forced to her feet.
Cronan turned to address her now. “Your world will fall. I’ve already decided it. Everyone will die.” He said it lightly, casually even, but Isla didn’t miss the almost imperceivable fold that formed between Grim’s brows.
He didn’t know. He thought Cronan would spare his people.
Her gaze flicked back to Cronan’s. “My council and I will travel through to the next galaxy, where endless power and more planets await. You have a chance at joining us at greatness, at being part of an unprecedented legacy . . . and being with the man you love.” He said the word like it was a joke.
“But only if you surrender yourself to me.” He motioned toward his crown, and in a moment, it shifted into a halo of bones.
As if it was made up of dozens of skeletal pieces.
“Offer me a bone . . . and you agree to serve me for eternity,” he said. It wasn’t an offer he had made before, when he had tried to simply melt down her mind.
He seriously believed she would actually consider joining him.
Cronan had invaded every crevice of her brain.
He had to have known how unlikely it was that she would align with him.
In a flash, his shadows shot through her head, sinking through her skull.
He spoke directly into her mind as he said, This is the only way you’ll be able to stay with your husband.
He’s here now, with me. Forever. If you truly loved him the way you said . . . this choice should be easy.
He was out of her head a moment later, the sockets of her eyes burning with the momentary invasion.
“You have three weeks to make your decision. That’s when I take your world, and everything in it,” Cronan said, and his crown became metal once more.
His shadows swept toward her again, and she braced for the now familiar burst of pain.
But instead, they slid down the curve of her skull, caressing her hair in a mocking reminder of what he could do with little thought. “I’ll know what you’ve decided.”
Deception was impossible, with him. If she planned against him during this time, he would know.
He released her from his hold, and she fell roughly to her knees. She heard Cronan leaving the room as the metal-plated arms of two knights hauled her up. They dragged her toward the doors.
She fought to catch her husband’s gaze before she left, but he was turned away from her, facing the remnants of that vision, as if he was frozen.
“Grim—” she said. The doors slammed between them, smothering her explanation.