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

If Isla had been expecting the tooth would lead her straight to the prophet’s missing pages, she was wrong.

She landed at the edge of a forest. The trees had golden leaves and plump fruit like miniature suns.

She was on Sun Isle.

Focus, she thought to herself, feeling the rush of emotion swelling within her. Nightshade was in danger. Thousands of innocents were in danger. Grim was in danger.

The world was in danger.

She had only been on the isle once. It felt like forever ago now. She had never been past the palace.

The tooth stirred in her pocket, warm against her thigh, pulsing with power.

The missing pages had to be nearby, even if she couldn’t see them. She walked through the forest until she saw a flash of something tall and glimmering through the treetops. The tooth heated, leading her toward it.

She stepped out of the woods and swallowed.

Massive gates stood before her, wrought in twisted ornate gold. They had to be over a hundred feet tall.

She took a step forward, and the tooth in her pocket nearly seared into her flesh, through the fabric. Its message was clear—the prophet’s blood-inked pages were on the other side.

Her hand reached to touch the burning metal. She pushed.

Nothing happened.

She pushed harder. It didn’t so much as tremble beneath her hands.

Her power was nearly spent from the battle. Her body was aching. Neither mattered when Lark threatened the world. With a steadying breath, she bent her knees, then took off into the air, the delicate weaving of the metal right in front of her face, until she was above it. She moved to fly over it—

And was met with resistance, like an invisible shield rippled out in all directions, where the gates couldn’t reach. It was as solid as the metal itself.

Lark’s forces could be rising at that very moment. She didn’t have time. She reached for Grim’s power, straining with effort, meaning to portal to the other side.

It didn’t work.

Her landing rattled her bones. She frowned as she lifted her hand, energy spiraling out of it, enough to turn the gates into a mangled mess.

Nothing happened. The gates were impenetrable. Shielded.

Not for long. She fell back into the forest. Closed her eyes. Breathed in and out, felt the woods whispering around her.

Threads, reaching out.

She pulled all of them.

Trees were ripped from their roots, scraped until they were sharp, until they were tied together to form a massive battering ram. Her hand shook as she kept it levitating, moving the ram toward the entrance. She sent her shoulder back, intending to slam it through the gates.

And was knocked off her feet.

Her back collided with a tree behind her. She lost her grip on the ram, and the forest shook as it fell to the ground.

There was a blade at her throat.

And amber eyes pinning her in place.

Oro wasn’t breathing. Isla was breathing far too much, panting in his face. His golden hair was disheveled, his clothes were darker than usual, and he was staring her down like she couldn’t possibly be real.

His eyes slipped down her body, slowly, and she felt his gaze like rough knuckles dragging down her neck, her chest, her ribs, her hips, her legs. Then, his eyes were meeting hers again, and it was undeniable, this force between them, an energy quivering like a strike of lightning.

It was almost enough to forget his dagger against her pulse.

He looked down at it, as if remembering. Still, he did not lower it. No, if anything, his grip tightened. The metal dug sharper against her skin. He leaned forward, and she didn’t know if he meant for his hips to pin hers against the tree; but that was the result, and she swallowed against the blade.

“I should kill you,” he murmured, his lips so close to hers. “I should really kill you.” She couldn’t help but think this was the same position they’d been in when he had first kissed her. She could almost taste him, the summer and heat and fire—part of her wanted him to do it now.

No. She shook away that thought. She loved Grim. She had just been with him—

But her heart was split in half. And one piece belonged to the king in front of her, holding his blade against her pulse.

Until he straightened, leaving her sprawled against the tree, heart thundering for conflicting reasons.

“What are you doing here, Isla?” he asked. There was no friendliness in his tone. No love, though she could feel it, a shining bridge between them. “Are you here to kill me too?”

Her blood went cold, remembering the prophecy. But he didn’t know about that . . . not unless Azul told him, which she didn’t believe.

His words sunk in. “What do you mean kill you too?”

His gaze was sharp as his knife. “Do you really think I don’t know?”

“Know what?”

His voice shook with anger. “You murdered the entire coastal guard. Twenty warriors.”

She frowned. “No, I didn’t.”

Isla knew how unbelievable that was. She had killed innocents before. He had watched her lose control. She had told him about how many people she had killed, to get him to hate her.

But she didn’t need to convince him.

Oro blinked as he realized she was telling the truth. “They . . . they saw you. Witnesses saw you.”

Dread curled in her stomach. No. Lark couldn’t be here that quickly. It was impossible. She had seen her, just hours before, across the world.

She told him about Lark and her attack.

His expression turned to stone, melting into his familiar seriousness, but he was not wholly shocked. Of course he wasn’t.

Her voice trembled. “You always said you didn’t lie to me, but omitting the truth, what is that? Isn’t that a lie?” She could feel power radiating out of her, Starling energy gathering in her fists, along with her anger. “You knew about Lark. You knew I had family. You knew, and you didn’t tell me.”

Oro’s gaze softened, just barely, a flame dimming. “Isla—”

“You were afraid I would seek her out, weren’t you? Wake her?” Maybe she would have. She didn’t know. The promise of family might have made her foolish. Still, he had kept it from her, and it hurt. She shook her head. It didn’t matter now. She was awake, and somehow had already gotten to Lightlark.

She had less time than she thought.

“There’s a deadly portal on Nightshade. I’m going to banish her through it; but to do that, I need to get past those gates.”

Oro studied her for moments, in silence. Weighing her words. Sensing the truth in them. Finally, he eyed her discarded battering ram. “That wouldn’t have worked.”

“Why?”

He walked toward the gates. “Because only my bloodline can open the gates.”

She wondered if that extended to her because he loved her. The augur would know. Seeming to sense her thoughts, he looked away and nodded. “Yes. Should you have done it correctly, they would have opened.”

“What is the right way?”

He ignored her question. Instead, he said, “If I let you through, I’m going with you.” She had figured as much. She didn’t pretend he trusted her for a second. His throat worked. “Lark is all our problem now. Especially if she’s here.”

She didn’t want him to go with her. Any time near him was torture. Any feelings she had tried to bury were now rising in full force.

But they were on his isle. Perhaps he could help her get the pages she needed.

“Fine.”

“You should know, there’s a reason only my bloodline is allowed inside.”

“Why?”

“Apart from holding our greatest enchantments . . . it has some of our harshest temperatures. Even Sunlings could die in the heat.”

“And . . . power can’t be used on the other side?”

He looked over at her as he approached the gates. “It can. But the elements can be stronger than our abilities. They can weaken us. Drain us.”

“So why have it at all?”

“Heat brings us strength, if you know how to use it. My ancestors used to come here to gorge on power. When I came of age, and mastered my Sunling abilities, I was locked here for a week, to prove that I was worthy of our line.”

“Has anyone . . . has anyone in your line not survived it?”

He nodded.

He and Grim had more in common than they ever would have admitted.

She swallowed, considering the gates. The place beyond seemed deadly—an endless expanse of twisted rocks and sand. Though, if that was where the tooth was leading her, she didn’t have a choice.

“Open it,” she said.

He ran his hand down the metal. There was a gold thorn there that she hadn’t noticed. It sliced down his hand, drawing blood. It dripped.

Then, with a magnificent groan, the gates creaked open.

For nearly an hour they walked in silence through a canyon of twisted rock, painted in hypnotic, orange, wave-like stripes. The path through was narrow and strangely formed, but at least it offered shade.

She had dreamed about this, about being able to talk to him again, but now . . . now she couldn’t replace the words. She didn’t know if she should apologize or let him continue hating her.

Oro still loved her. She could feel the bond between them, as strong as ever. Killing him wouldn’t destroy Lightlark, not while she still lived.

He was walking slightly ahead, bending beneath the twisted stone. She could do it. She could take the dagger in her pocket and plunge it through his heart before he even sensed her movement.

It would fulfill the prophecy. Grim would be safe.

She knew it; and still, her hands remained firmly by her sides. As it stood, her life was almost over, unless she could replace the portal and take some of its power before closing it. Being bound to Lightlark would only put more innocents in danger.

They continued walking as the ground turned to orange dirt. The air became heavier. She considered discarding layers of clothing; but the sun was beating so heavily, she was afraid her skin would burn. She conjured a starshield above her for a few hours, before her focus began to wane. Oro was right. The heat was like a current, dragging her energy away.

“Conserve your strength as much as possible,” Oro said gruffly beside her. “It’s only going to get hotter.”

It did.

The heat intensified, thickening until it felt like she was treading through water. She lifted her shirt to wipe her brow. Sand stuck to her sweat-covered skin as they traveled through it. Her legs began to strain against the friction, her feet sliding. Even Oro began to look tired.

“Isn’t the heat supposed to energize you?” she asked pointedly, her voice dry and raspy.

His look was piercing. “It feeds my Sunling abilities, which I have no intention of using.” Good. She didn’t know if she could take even another degree of heat.

Hours later, it felt like she was steaming in her clothes. She started peeling layers off, starting with her shirt. Oro didn’t look at her as she took it off, tying it around her shoulders to protect them from the burn. Next was her tank top, which had stuck to her body like a second skin. Soon, she was only in her pants and the fabric she wore around her chest. Her daggers were heavy against her legs, weighing her down.

She treasured each of them. But one by one, she began discarding them, until only one dagger remained.

The tooth pulsed against her leg, leading her forward. Her pace became slower, until her feet were barely moving. It was then that she realized she might not make it to the missing pages at all. She had never felt this shade of heat before, a warmth that seemed capable of drowning her.

She swallowed and found her throat raw and aching. Water. She needed water, but there was none around. Just endless sand.

Her steps began to slow to a glacial pace. Her head developed an aching pulse. Eventually she stopped, hands on her knees. Breathing unsteadily.

Oro stopped with her. “There’s an oasis. It isn’t close, but it exists.”

An oasis.

The promise of water was enough for her to start walking again. A faint breeze brushed against her cheeks. She closed her eyes tightly against the sand and spread her arms wide to get as much of the cool air as possible.

Oro cursed beside her.

She opened her eyes the slightest bit, and it looked like . . . it looked like the desert was rippling.

She squinted, wondering if the heat was making her see things, but no. She couldn’t just see it; she could feel it. The ground trembling, as something like a rogue wave rushed toward them.

It overtook everything in its path, smearing away the sun itself. Distant mountains disappeared. It was swallowing the horizon whole. It kept going. Right toward them.

“What—”

“Sandstorm. We need to get inside now.”

Her voice was crazed. “Inside where?”

Oro didn’t answer, he just took her arm and started running. He had been here before; he had survived this. Her knees nearly buckled as she tried to match his pace.

She was slow, slower than she ever had been, and certainly slower than the storm. Oro didn’t look over his shoulder. He didn’t falter. He dragged her to the right, parallel to the sand whisking around them.

They should be heading away, she thought; but she followed him regardless, not sure if she would be able to move without him helping her. If he let go, she would just sink into the sand. She would die.

She thought of Grim. Nightshade. They were counting on her to survive this.

But the storm had reached them.

The sand hit her like a battering ram, and she would have fallen to the ground if Oro hadn’t kept her steady.

“Keep going,” he yelled over the roar of the wind; and, through sand that nearly blinded her, she saw it. A cluster of dark orange rocks. A hole in one side. Shelter.

Sand grated her skin raw. It was already burned from the sun, and now it stung as if she was being flayed. She gritted her teeth and kept going.

She had survived many storms before. She would survive this one too.

That was when she remembered the stormstone, the second one Azul had given her, the one she wore now.

She didn’t need to track a storm anymore, but Azul had said gales were engorged with power. Ability that could be captured. It could be useful against Lark.

She began to slip the ring off her finger.

“Faster,” Oro said right in front of her, but she couldn’t see him. No, all she could see was golden sand, scraping like teeth against her skin. She could barely breath. It was getting in her throat. “We’re here.” Oro had reached the opening.

She dropped his hand before entering.

He lunged for her, but she planted herself against the wall of sand and faced the storm. It roared like a beast, increasing in power, winds raging, nearly knocking her back, but she stayed firm. She did not fall. She did not falter. She closed her eyes and raised the stone above her head, the same way she had before.

The diamond trembled in her palm. It shook as she captured the storm in her fist, feeling its strength in her bones.

Warm fingers curled around her arm and dragged her into the cave.

She collapsed on the ground, gasping for air, coughing up sand. It had torn up her throat. It had filled her mouth. When she could breathe again, she tried to open her eyes, but they stung too much. Sand was caked on her eyelashes and on every inch of her skin.

“What the hell was that?” Oro demanded.

She said nothing as she slipped the ring back onto her finger, as she scrubbed against her eyelids again. After several minutes, tears washed them clean, and she wondered how she had any liquid left in her body.

The space was small. Sand blasted outside, in a torrent, stronger than before. Without shelter, they would have suffocated in it. She leaned against the stone at her back and flinched. It was hot as coals.

The entire cave was hot, without so much as a breeze from the outside. Heat had been trapped within. They might have been spared the storm, but she could die of dehydration in here.

“How long will the storm last?” she asked, eyes darting to the entry, at the flashing wall of gold.

“Hours, sometimes.”

Hours?

She wouldn’t survive hours in here. Not with all the heat. Not when she was already boiling.

No use in waiting. Wincing against the feeling of the fabric shifting against her raw skin, she slowly peeled the rest of her clothing off, until she was naked. She crossed her legs and pulled them to her chest, in an attempt to cover anything she could.

Isla wasn’t sure Oro was breathing. He was just watching her, looking like he might be close to losing his mind. Sweat slipped down her neck, between her breasts, and he traced its path with his eyes. Swallowed.

For several minutes, Oro sat very still. He didn’t move a muscle. Then, as the heat intensified, made warmer by their body heat, he took off his shirt. His pants were next.

She knew she shouldn’t, but she watched his own sweat slide down his chest, down muscle as hard as the rock behind her. For a moment, she imagined tracing it with her finger. Feeling his golden skin against—

Isla turned away.

It was too hot. It was messing with her head. She couldn’t think straight.

She reached for the link between them, to use Moonling ability to freeze the water dripping down her chest, hoping to offer some sort of relief, but her energy was nearly depleted. Only a single bead of sweat turned to ice, before her power flickered away.

“Here,” Oro said. He reached a hand toward her. “May I?”

At first, she tensed, and he dropped his hand. She was naked. But then, she understood his meaning. She understood what he was offering.

Cold. Relief. She should say no. He was her enemy. He’d had his blade against her throat just hours ago. She was married to someone else.

Still . . . she found herself saying yes.

Oro gently, very gently, ran his hand down her arm, and her every nerve awakened. She was coated in sweat, but he didn’t seem to mind. Under his touch, the water cooled, and she groaned as his icy hand smoothed across her heated skin.

She pressed her lips together against the sound, for it was far more sensual than she had meant it to be. Oro’s throat worked as he moved to the other arm. Everywhere he touched was soothed, calmed. She was greedy for it. Desperate. She took his hand in hers, making him tense, and placed it on her forehead. She closed her eyes and sighed. It dulled the ache. He dulled the ache.

After a few moments, she opened her eyes to replace him staring down at her. Amber eyes. She had missed that color. The heat was doing wild things to her head. She remembered a time just like this, during the Centennial, when he’d had his hands on her, to heal her. She had only been in her underthings. She remembered, and it made her forget herself. Forget the other half of her heart. She couldn’t help but move his fingers down her face, her jaw, her throat.

“Isla,” he said, his voice dark and rasped, and it made her remember even more. She dragged his hand down her chest, to her heart. His fingers were long against her bare aching skin, and she sighed again.

“It feels so good,” she said, barely knowing what was coming out of her mouth. “It feels so good when you touch me.”

His eyes darkened. His other hand was splayed next to her head, stiff with restraint, veins taut. He didn’t dare move, not unless she guided him.

And she did. She slipped their hands down her chest. Down her stomach.

An ache began to build. An ache for him, an ache from the past. A memory. She started to remember the day before the battle, and everything they had done.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She stilled their hands.

Sorry? Why would he be sorry?

His thumb gently swept across her stomach, over a scar that hadn’t yet completely healed. The place Zed had put an arrow through her.

“He’s imprisoned. It doesn’t erase what he did—he, he shouldn’t have—”

“You put him in a cell?” she asked, part of her sanity returning. He nodded. Zed was one of his oldest friends. But he had tried to kill her.

Her thoughts seemed to slither free from the grip of her mind. Everything was slippery. Everything was magnified, especially this ache within her.

She guided his hand lower again. Lower, until his knuckles traced a path between her hip bones, leaving her skin prickling.

“Isla, I think you inhaled too much sand in the storm.” Oro was saying, somewhere far away. “It has power. It can . . . heighten senses. Emotions.”

Yes, that was what she felt. Heightened. Every nerve was on fire.

He began to move his hand away, but she said, “Please. Please don’t stop touching me. Never stop touching me.”

But he did. He looked pained, but he gently removed his hand. “Sleep, Isla, if you can.”

Sleep. She didn’t want to. She was suddenly burning, more than she ever had in the desert. But, as she rested against the warm floor, sleep reached her quickly.

And she dreamed of the night before the battle.