Skyshade (The Lightlark Saga Book 3) (The Lightlark Saga, 3) (Volume 3)
Skyshade: NO ONE

Lark wouldn’t replace the heart of Lightlark. Isla would make sure of it. The slice of power was warm and bright in her palm as she surfaced on Sky Isle, Remlar’s instructions sharp in her mind.

She didn’t even see the vines until they were wrapped around her and she was on her knees. A row of thorns forced her fingers open, peeling her skin in coils. She had no choice but to drop the heart.

Right into Lark’s awaiting hand.

“Thank you so much for replaceing it for me,” Lark said, her smile serpentine.

Isla bellowed as she fought against the restraints. Her anger exploded off her in waves of energy, sending the vines flying in pieces. In a moment she was on her feet, wiping her bloody hands down her clothing.

Lark frowned as she curled her fingers around the shining orb. Its light faded until it went dull and only an acorn remained. A very helpful illusion Grim had helped her master. “What is this?” she demanded.

“It’s a trap,” Isla said, and then the world exploded.

The acorn hadn’t been an acorn at all, but something Zed had previously developed, an orb filled with their own concentrated power. It burst in Lark’s hand, throwing them both backward.

Isla was caught by Grim’s shadows, the cold darkness smoothing tenderly around her body and swimming across the skin torn by Lark’s vines.

The Wildling landed on the other side of the clearing. Her body had been brutalized by the burst of energy, but she was healing quickly.

“Now,” Isla yelled, and Oro was there, Remlar’s blade in hand. The cursed weapon glistened. He didn’t waste a moment.

Isla didn’t dare breathe as he pulled back and stabbed the knife straight through Lark’s heart.

Darkness seemed to swallow the world, blinding them for a moment before retreating. There was a gurgled scream.

The shard of ice came from nowhere. It struck Oro, and Isla roared. She broke free from the shadows and rushed forward but was thrown back by a sheet of water so concentrated, her spine hit the trees again.

Cleo stepped out of the woods. Isla should have known. Of course the Moonling was working with Lark.

Grim’s shadows rushed forward; he would end her in half a second. “Careful, Grim,” the Moonling said. “Hurt any of us, and your wife’s pretty little head will hit the ground.”

That was when Isla felt a cold sword against her throat. “Hello again,” a voice said. Soren.

The traitor.

Lark had mentioned someone had helped her surface . . . somehow, Cleo must have managed it. She wondered how that was possible, when only Grim’s ability could free her.

It didn’t matter now. Lark was cursed. Immobilized.

Even with the blade at her neck, Isla melted with relief.

Until Lark began to move again. To her horror, the Wildling stood, the dagger still sticking through her heart. No. Impossible. The curse was supposed to last at least a few hours, long enough to send her through the portal.

Slowly, Lark’s skin began stitching around the blade, until the dagger was expelled and fell to the floor, as if it was nothing more than steel.

It didn’t make sense; Remlar had bound the curse with his life.

The Wildling smiled again. “It seems we both planned traps today.

You don’t think I know where you went? Who you went to for help?”

She raised her hand, and the trees above shook. From its branches, a body dropped down, limp and dead. Eyes wide and pale blue throat slit.

Remlar.

“No!” she screamed, tears falling down her face and trickling onto the blade.

Lark only grinned wider. “What a curious being he was,” she said. “Always had been.” He was a curious being, Isla thought. And a loyal one. He wouldn’t have told Lark anything useful, even while his life was at risk.

Oro was on the ground, surrounded by Zed and Calder, who were working furiously to close his new wound. Enya was in front of them, her wings of fire curling out of her back, balls of flames in her hands.

Grim was looking at Isla, eyes wide but focused, as if he was calculating the chances of being able to turn Soren to ash or portal her away, before her throat was slit. Soren’s pressure against her neck was firm—portaling away could kill her.

But she wouldn’t let anyone else she cared about die because of her failings.

Grim seemed to sense a shift in her emotions, because he stepped forward. “No—”

She was too quick. Using his power, using the strength of her anguish, she sent them all different places, far from each other.

Before she could think to portal herself, Soren pinned her against him, blade pointed right at her jugular. She didn’t dare breathe.

All her focus shifted to holding on to her and Grim’s bond, blocking his power, the same way Remlar had once taught her to, so he couldn’t portal back to her. She immediately felt him fight against it, the power pulsing, but she stood firm. Remlar would have been proud of her.

Lark looked surprised but not discouraged. “No matter. We will replace the others later. And you will regret having ever wasted our time.”

The hilt of the sword hit the side of her head, and the world fell silent.

She woke up bound. The air was stale and dry. She had been plunged into near-total darkness. She blinked and could just barely make out the figure of a woman in front of her.

Lark sighed. “Strange how easily mistakes are repeated . . .” she said. “How strange another Wildling ruler fell in love with her Nightshade counterpart.”

Isla’s grin was cruel as she spat at her feet. “Mine gave me his life. Yours locked you in a prison. We are not the same.”

Lark just smiled back, but Isla could tell she hit a nerve. The Wildling still harbored deep resentment over Grim’s ancestor. She could feel it.

“Let me give you some advice, Isla,” she said. “Kill your heart before it kills you.” She stepped closer. “The heart is always our downfall. No matter the poetry or the lessons about love conquering all, no—the opposite. Love conquers us. It is the true ruler. The true equalizer. The true weapon and scythe among men.”

That, at least, was true. Isla knew it. Love had made her do the worst things she had ever done in her life.

But it had also made her strong enough to do the best.

“We could have been allies, in another life,” Lark said. “You know what it’s like to be locked away. To be betrayed by those you love.” The side of her head ached where the sword had hit her. Her vision blurred, then returned. “Perhaps time will be what you need. Just like me.”

It was then that Isla turned to see her wrists bound behind her, and what was around them.

Her bracelets, made into cuffs chained to the floor. The ones Lark must have found in the blacksmith’s forge.

“No,” she screamed, trying to break herself away from them. She summoned all her power—but it was gone.

Gone.

Lark sighed. “It’s torturous, isn’t it? Even worse after the first century. You’ll see.” She stepped closer to her. Isla lunged forward, but the chains dragged her back. Lark only smiled. “I don’t need the heart of Lightlark when I have you. I’m going to replace the Nightshade and Sunling rulers and send you pieces of them, until you comply. I’m going to kill every single person you’ve ever cared about.” Isla raged against the bracelets, and Lark only smiled. “Goodbye, for now, Isla,” she said, as the ceiling dropped to swallow her.

Isla’s raging scream was heard by no one.