Lightlark (The Lightlark Saga Book 1)

Oro’s betrayal was a glacier in her chest, throbbing and raw. She had trusted him. They had been through a flurry of challenges and obstacles. Together.

Didn’t that mean something?

The weeks she had spent helping Oro had been wasted.

The only thing that thawed her pain was Grim. He filled her dreams, then her days.

Isla knew they were numbered, not just because the island was crumbling around her. Cleo and Oro would be close to finding the heart . . . had possibly already found it. And when they did, and they wielded it, only one last part of fulfilling the prophecy would be left—killing a ruler, and their entire realm.

Soon, Isla would be dead. She would never have her Wildling power. Terra would be gone.

And there was nothing she could do about it.

For a week, Isla thought only of survival.

With Grim’s help, she had moved into the Place of Mirrors on Wild Isle. If Juniper was to be believed, only Wildling power could be wielded there. It was the only place where she and Cleo, or even Oro, would be matched in power, should they attack. Her blades were not meaningless there.

She had taken over one of the abandoned rooms upstairs.

Every morning, she wondered if it was her last. She locked her door and put furniture in front of it, knowing all it would do was give her notice before someone struck. She tried to stay awake at night, every creak of the castle making her jump—but eventually her body shut down, forcing her asleep.

Her hand was never far away from her dagger.

Ella risked grave danger in the deadly forest, venturing to Wild Isle to bring her whatever she needed. Food. Water. One of the last times she had stopped in, Isla had handed her most of the gems she had brought to Lightlark, a sack full of diamonds and precious stones. “Hire a healer,” she had said.

She had wondered if the Starling wouldn’t return after that, having gotten what she wanted. But she did. Every day, she returned.

So did Celeste.

Right after the betrayal, she had called Isla a fool for trusting the king. Then she had pulled her into her arms, and they had cried.

Isla had wondered if that would be the moment Celeste would leave her behind. Her friend had her own life and realm to worry about. It was foolish continuing to ally herself with Isla.

But Celeste was still convinced the bondbreaker was an option.

“I’m searching for it,” she said. “I’m making progress.”

Isla spent most of her days drawing her puddles of stars and looking inside until seeing Terra made her stomach twist with guilt. The entire right side of her body was part of the ground now. She could barely speak.

Once, she wondered if she was being selfish by hiding. If Cleo and Oro did indeed find and use the heart of Lightlark and fulfilled most of the prophecy, didn’t it make sense for Wildling to be the ones to die?

Her newland and people were nearly gone. She was powerless. Isla and her realm offered nothing to the future of the island.

Perhaps they made the most sense . . .

Isla mentioned it to Celeste, who had looked ready to slap her.

“We need Wildlings,” her friend had said. “To rebuild. To grow. You and your realm are more important than you know.”

That night, she had wandered the Place of Mirrors, stopping in front of the carvings of her people and the vault she had tried and failed to open.

Celeste was right. Wildlings were once great. Integral to the island.

What a shame they had such a weak leader, she thought, staring at the wild animals that once roamed free here, the glorious floras thousands of Wildlings once grew, the weapons they had wielded before their focus became hearts and blood.

What a tragedy this was how their chapter ended.