Chapter 41
ISLA
Isla’s skin itched, her head throbbed, and her throat burned, but she forced herself to remain in her seat.
She forced herself to listen while speeches and anecdotes were given of small triumphs against the Imperial Pack and its allies, confirming what she’d learned from Eli about the brewing southern rebellions.
From the “warriors” trained from birth to serve as spies in Ganymede to rebels using the rogue territory to slip through poorly guarded borders in Rhea and setting up a secret stronghold, the packs had been a patchwork of silent warfare occurring right under their noses during these times of peace for years.
It was when Silver spoke of Charon and Locke, of Cassius, her father, Imperial Luna Marlane, and Adrien that she knew she needed to leave—not only that tent but the island entirely.
Someone stronger might have endured it, but she was unprepared and had no one to turn to as they unleashed their vitriol.
She could only watch Amalie’s nerve-skewering smile as she felt the desire for her family’s blood dripping from every emphatic spoken word.
Had Amalie always been a part of this?
The alpha’s niece said nothing as Isla slowly rose from her seat after the most recent orator’s conclusion.
She kept low as she snuck through the wooden seating.
Thankfully, her movements were drowned out by the chittering crowd.
In the short intermission, spectators spoke amongst themselves, some clearly roused by the cause, invigorated by the possibilities of shredding the hierarchy apart.
Others had been understandably wary, aware that pretty words and speeches only masked the catastrophe that this could be, the destruction it could lead to, and the lives lost.
Isla had just reached the sandy ground when she caught Silver returning to the stage again.
Someone had been tailing him onto the platform, but stopped just short of the wide spotlight.
Her heart leaped into her throat when she recognized the petite build and black-cropped hair.
It was the woman who’d handed her the flyer.
“As you may or may not have heard,” Silver boomed over the crowd, his tone smooth and assured, while Isla dipped back to shield herself in the structure’s shadow.
“A few days ago, our brothers and sisters in Deimos crowned their new luna. Alpha Kai, a victim of a tragedy that could’ve been prevented had the Imperial legions done their duty and kept sorceresses from breaching our lands, found his fated mate.
” From some, whoops and whistles went through the air, but others released low grumbles.
Isla’s entire body went numb.
“His fated is a warrior born of Io.” Those noises of approval slipped into sharp breaths. Clearly, they hadn’t known. “The Imperial Beta’s daughter.”
More gasps and now chatter had begun, frantic words of confusion and begrudging words cursing the Goddess.
“But I’ve learned she is one for our cause.”
The chatter ceased.
Isla scrunched her brows. What was he talking about?
“It has been relayed with confidence from our most trusted allies that before the luna accepted her role at the alpha’s side, they devised a plan, and she bravely returned to the Imperial Pack, risking her life to gather intel.
From her, we learned of an arsenal of witches that Imperial Alpha Cassius is harboring in Valkeric, their mountain prison, preparing to unleash them upon us all. ”
Cries of shock and fear erupted, and Isla had to resist her own.
None of that had been true. At least, not the part of her involvement or why she’d gone home, but she bit down on her tongue and her urge to jump out and refute him.
Because she was smarter. She understood.
She was a chess piece on a much bigger board—a symbol.
She couldn’t control the misinformation they spread, the propaganda, and couldn’t change who and what they wanted her to be. These people would believe what they heard today. Everything.
It was better for her if they believed it. The fact about the witches had been true, anyway.
“With her knowledge of Io, her strength, and Alpha Kai by her side, whose power is unlike anyone we have ever seen—the ability to kill without touching an opponent—” More gasps and urgent chatter.
“We are stronger than we ever have been, and now—now is when we rally. Now is when we prepare to strike. The luna is here,” Isla nearly choked, “in Mimas, visiting our alpha, our pack, preparing for our fight. She arrived at the Pack Hall just this afternoon.”
Isla’s heart stopped entirely when Silver’s eyes, the color of his name, flitted in her direction. Brief enough not to draw attention, but with enough of a flash that—
He knew she was here.
She was leaving.
Now.
After a glimpse of Amalie, who wasn’t looking her way but still donned that serpentine smile, Isla turned on her heel.
She kept her steps casual as she exited the tent, feeling the entry guard watching her closely. But once she rounded a dune, shielded from sight, Isla sprinted. She sprinted until her feet ached, until her lungs burned, until that ridiculous hat was lost in the wind.
She didn’t run for the central part of the island. She couldn’t handle people right now, couldn’t handle that chaos. Her mask needed to be reforged, and the only way that could happen was if she broke and gathered herself again.
The southern beach had been deserted and was a thin stretch of sand compared to what she’d glimpsed of the northern end closer to the ferry entrance. Isla was grateful for the barrenness as panic pressed on her chest with cold, clawed hands. Squeezing, shredding.
With her chest heaving, Isla looked down at her own splayed fingers, prickles forming over her chilling skin, her insides writhing, twisting.
“Please don’t.” Darkness pressed in and gathered.
This couldn’t be real.
“Isla?”
Isla snapped her head up to find Ameera approaching.
Isla went ramrod-straight, quashing whatever brewed inside her, throwing fire at it to burn it away.
Not now. Not now.
She’d forgotten Ameera lingered nearby.
One hand over her heart, she tried to master her breathing while the other waved Ameera off. “I’m fine!”
The biggest lie in the world.
Ameera broke into a sprint towards her, moonlight gleaming off her hair and sand kicking up in her wake. With that warrior general’s keen analysis, she inspected her. “What the hell happened in there?”
Isla clenched and released her fists, choking out a breath. “It wasn’t a magic show. It was a meeting for the rebellion. Amalie is—” Isla shook her head. “The things they want to do, I—I…”
Ameera’s features hardened, and she pointed to the ground. “Sit.”
Isla paced a few steps, her body wired. “I can’t.”
“Sit,” Ameera commanded again. “Breathe.”
Isla stared at her for a few moments, trying to choke down an inhale before she lowered herself to the grit. The texture of the beach was a welcome, soothing sensation as she dug her fingers into it.
Ameera eyed her, ensuring she was settled before turning away. With her head down, she scoured the beach for something. Isla couldn’t muster up enough energy to ask what. Eventually, she scooped up a decent-sized shell and filled it with ocean water.
Trudging back to Isla, she held it out. “This is the best I can do.”
“You shouldn’t drink salt water.” Isla blinked.
Ameera flashed her a deadpan look. “Close your eyes.”
Isla didn’t know why she obeyed so quickly. She flinched when the cool water splashed over her face, then sighed into its salty scent. With sandy hands, she balled up her shirt and wiped her eyes. “That feels nice.”
Ameera left again to get more, but Isla scrambled to her feet. She followed her to the shore’s edge and kicked off her shoes, rolling up the legs of her pants. Her breaths moved like the wind and the waves as she dug her toes into the cool, wet sand, letting the water lap across her feet.
Breathe.
Her eyes traced the strip of moonlight on the water before she let her eyes slide closed.
Breathe.
“Are you okay?”
Isla wouldn’t look at her as she nodded, shame coiling in her gut. Goddess, she was falling apart.
“Barely.” She hung her head. “I don’t know if you’ve realized this about me, but I hate not being in control. I—I can’t handle it. Being pushed and pulled by someone else, not having a say in my own future… I don’t trust myself to handle whatever it is.”
She peered at Ameera, who only eyed her with consideration, no judgment. Just a listening ear, thank the Goddess. She needed it.
Isla cleared her throat. “When I broke down last year, I was lost. I felt like I had no purpose, and now I have too many. I went from wanting someone to just see me to wishing I could hide because now everyone is looking at me, and I don’t know what I’m doing.
I’m cracking. It’s too much. It’s too fast.”
Silence fell between them with nothing but the sloshing and a gull’s soft caw.
“Do you wish you fought harder?”
The words were a bludgeon to Isla’s skull. She turned her head. “What?”
The general pursed her lips. “Do you wish you fought the bond harder?”
Isla shook away the nagging in the back of her mind. “No. Kai is my choice, and even if this is what it costs to have him, I’d choose him again and again. I’ll get stronger. I’ll get better. We both will, and we’ll have each other when we do it. But the road to being okay is hard.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” Ameera scoffed, her eyes going distant as she thought. Her features softened in the wake of the gentle wind as if it had blown away her mask. Her hand went to the chain around her neck. “Did I ever tell you why I became a warrior?"
Isla shook her head, eager to understand the inner workings of the general’s mind.
She didn’t notice the creature slithering through the waves and onto the sand—not until it snapped around her leg and dragged her into the water.