Lightlark (Lightlark, #1)

by Alex Aster

will follow your orders. And wished they hadn’t been a lie.

“Have we met before?”

“If we had”—his eyes dipped for just a moment—“it wouldn’t have been just once.”

A pale-blue cloak cracked with wind before settling against bare, very dark shoulders and muscled arms. The man had eyebrows larger than his eyes, a sculpted chin, and perfectly coiffed stubble that framed his pink mouth. Azul, ruler of Skyling.

Cleo’s white gown had long sleeves like milky beams of moonlight, a neckline that reached her chin, and a cape that completely covered three-fourths of her body. The skin Isla could see was so fair, her veins shined through, blue streaks on a slab of white marble. She was not only many shades lighter than Isla but also far taller. Her face was long and pointed in three places, cheekbones and chin, sculpted like a diamond.

Somehow, Isla made it through the rest of the dinner without having to excuse herself. Then she spent the night retching blood.

Isla had been born without the Wildlings’ curse—or their power. Since birth, she’d lived locked away, protected by Poppy and Terra, in fear that her realm would discover her secret.

“The first rule. A ruler may not assassinate or attempt to assassinate another ruler until after the fiftieth day.”

“And, when pairs are decided on the twenty-fifth day, a ruler may not assassinate their partner.”

“That’s a lot of chocolate.” He shrugged. “You said you could eat your weight in it. I’m taking that at face value.”

“Wake me up when all of this is over.” A chuckle. Eyes still closed, she felt something rough against her lips. “Open.”

He watched the movement, staring at her neck far too intently, before almost absentmindedly baring his teeth, like he wanted to bite her there.

She was panting, right in his face. He was looking at her like he hadn’t ever seen her before.

But she wasn’t allowed to go on the tour. A punishment for the screaming.

“No,” the Starling whispered into Isla’s shoulder after a long while. “We work together. Always.” Taking her face into her hands, she looked right into Isla’s eyes and made a promise. “I will protect you. We will walk away from the Centennial and into the rest of our very long lives together.”

And put her entire arm in the flames. Yells. Cries of horror. The crowd gasped, horrified, as Isla’s skin charred. Melted.

In the haze, she cut her fingers, and the blood smeared her weapons, acting as a siren call to even more insects, which feasted on her flesh as if she was already dead.

The only way not to fear death is to meet it.

There was a shatter of glass as Celeste dropped her cups to the floor, taking herself out of the challenge.

“I just ask that you keep doing that when we’re on the isles.” Isla blinked. Again. “So . . . you don’t want me using my powers.”

“This was all a test, wasn’t it?” she yelled. Her back teeth clattered together. “You wanted to see if I could trust you.”

“They only grow over dead bodies,” he said impatiently. “Or where blood is spilled. It is said they capture the last words of the dead who give them life.”

“Azul lost someone. Someone he loved.”

“His husband.”

“I do. Cleo thinks of the good of her realm above all else.”

“She has no hobbies? No lovers?”

“She did have different relationships, with both men and women, before she came into power,”

“Grim is the only thing standing between us and a greater danger you can’t even begin to fathom.”

You are a rose with thorns, she said. A pretty thing capable of protecting itself.

It wasn’t until she was done and slumped against a tree that she realized she had been biting into Oro’s hand. It was covered in bite marks. She had pierced the skin in various places.

One hand gripped her hip harder, pinning her to him, while the other traveled across her stomach. His knuckles trailed up her ribs, only stopping once they reached the heavy underside of her chest. They grazed her there, and she was suddenly aching, her skin prickling, heat pooling. She met his eyes and found them dark with—

The diamond was beautiful, but she didn’t want a gem—she wanted him, pressed against her. Immediately.

She landed on her side, temple banging against the marble.

“We’re beneath a Skyling graveyard,” he said gruffly. He nodded toward the bright blue. “Glowworms. They eat the bones.”

Before the Centennial had even started, she’d promised herself she wouldn’t use the relic to look at her home.

She drew her puddle of stars, almost hoping that her old self would click back into place at the sight of her realm and people.

Oro’s smile was pure mirth. “I’ll let you in on a secret that might explain my decision,” he said loudly, for all to hear. He turned to look straight at her. “Isla Crown doesn’t have powers.”

“I knew that you aren’t bound by the curses. And that you’ve never wielded power.”

“I think they’re going to kill me,”

“If anyone makes a move to harm you, I will ruin them and their entire realm.”

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

With Grim’s help, she had moved into the Place of Mirrors on Wild Isle.

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 made a sound she had never made before, and he touched her possessively, like he knew her every inch and wanted more, wanted everything.

“But a courageous one, showing up to the Centennial without abilities . . .” She raised an eyebrow. “And using the skin gloves to get into protected sections of our castles? Ingenious.”

A twenty-four-hour carnival meant to celebrate the last quarter of the Centennial, Carmel was a celebration of the realms for all islanders, not just nobles.

“What’s happened?” Isla asked, retrieving her dagger in a flash. Ella didn’t even wince at the weapon as she said, panting, “A ruler has been attacked.” “Which one?” she asked, roaring filling her ears, filling the world. Ella’s silver-gloved fingers shook at her sides. “Starling.”

“Late at night, I ache for you. I ache for you all the time,” he said, face truly looking tortured. As if he had waited a long while to say those words. As if she had been a curse worse than all others.

Built for war. Toned completely.

“And I want to do a thousand things with you,”