Crowntide by Alex Aster - 13

“That king was fucking useless,” Grim snarled, throwing the golden threads down onto the table at Oro’s castle on Lightlark.

Oro frowned at him. They were both still covered in blood and guts. The stench was almost enough to make Oro gag. “He said she would need this to save the universe.”

Very slowly, Grim’s eyes met his. He took a step forward. “Do you think I give a fuck about the universe?” he said. “I care about my wife . The world can fall to pieces in the meantime.”

“My love is not lesser, because I care about this world,” Oro said. “She does too.”

“Which is the only reason it isn’t already ash,” the Nightshade growled. He shook his head. “She is my heart. Of course, your love is lesser .”

Oro wondered if that was true. But he knew Isla. He knew she cared about others. It was the entire reason she had left this world in the first place.

“I just want to get her back,” Grim said, hands in fists. Shadows raced across his floor, suffocating the gold tiles.

“I don’t think the threads are useless for that,” Oro said. He didn’t know much about the Threads of Time, but an artifact so powerful must be able to help them.

“Good. Then make yourself useful,” he said, gesturing to the threads on the table.

Oro sighed. “The lost king said we had to go to the cursed world. Can you portal us there?”

Grim lifted a hand. “If I had something of that world. A connection to it. A piece of it,” he said.

Oro thought about their conversation with the lost king. “He said that all realms needed to play their part in this war.” He started pacing. “Nightshade and Sunling.” Grim and him. “Starling and Wildling.” Isla controlled both. “Moonling.” Cleo had just helped them. “. . . And Skyling.”

Their gazes met.

“Azul’s husband died during the curses,” Oro offered. “If what the king said was true . . .” Then part of his soul was still in that world. Perhaps they could speak to him. A knot formed in his chest, thinking about everyone else who died during the curses. Everyone else who might be there . . .

“What would Azul’s husband know that could be important to us now?” Grim said.

Oro considered that. “He was a Moonling scholar, who worked with ancient texts.” If Cleo knew something useful to getting to the otherworld, she would have already told them. Her knowledge before the curses must have been limited, given she was never supposed to become ruler. “If any Moonling has information that could help us . . . especially if it was lost . . . it might be him.”

Oro continued pacing as he mulled it over. He didn’t want to cause Azul any pain by asking this of him. The Skyling had said his goodbyes, when the storm around Lightlark had vanished, after the curses had been cast. He had believed that his soul had been released . . . Now they knew that it was the island that had been released, back into this world.

But if there was a war coming that could destroy not only their world but the entire universe, then the lost king was right. They all needed to play their part.

“Let’s pay Azul a visit,” Oro said.

Azul had already taken on an enormous responsibility during the last battle. Almost all of Oro’s people had been portaled to his newland for safety. He was elected to rule his realm, which had resulted in a successful, efficient democracy.

Every important action was voted upon. But this was too crucial and time-sensitive for that.

“Let me do the talking,” Oro said, as Grim portaled them into the Skyling’s castle. He had at least taken a moment to change out of his blood-crusted clothing. Grim, expectedly, hadn’t bothered.

When the Skylings caught a glimpse of Grim, they scattered, shooting in all directions. The Nightshade scowled at him. “Yes, because you’re so good at talking,” Grim said dismissively, and Oro was struck by a memory. The Nightshade had said something similar centuries ago.

“At least I don’t incite panic with my very presence,” Oro grumbled, watching as everyone they passed soared away, fleeing the castle as if the skies themselves had fallen.

“Not everyone can make an entrance, Sunling,” Grim drawled before flinging the council room’s doors open with his shadows. Oro rolled his eyes.

Inside, the discussion a group of representatives was having immediately silenced. There were some gasps. A few murmurs.

Azul looked up from where he sat, expression tired. He sighed, then glanced between them, with not so much curiosity as dread.

The Skyling ruler excused himself, and the three of them walked into a different room a moment later.

The walls were sky-blue, painted with swirls of white that resembled clouds. The ceiling had been removed, now that they could fly again. Above, the sky was clear. Sunlight rained down.

As soon as the door shut, Azul demanded, “Where is she? What happened?” By his alarm, it seemed he knew something had to have gone truly wrong for Grim and Oro to be working together.

Grim didn’t give Oro a chance to answer before he barked, “You’re going to help us.” Oro sighed. This is why he had wanted to do the talking.

Azul’s normally tidy stubble had grown out. His typically perfectly pressed robes were full of creases. “I helped her ,” he said wearily. “And now . . . now, I wonder if that was a good thing to do.”

Oro knew Isla had visited the Skyling. “What did you give her?”

“A ring, to capture a shred of the storm. And a stormfinch.” Oro had seen the bird in her room, when he had waited for her. “And, of course, the orbs of storms captured over the centuries. Our ancient collection.”

Oro remembered how those storms had erupted—how they had given them enough energy to defeat the creatures that Lark had summoned.

“Where is she?” Azul repeated.

When Oro told him, the Skyling slowly sunk into a chair. He leaned his elbows against his knees, his head in his hands. “We owe her a great debt, then,” he said.

It was true. As angry as Oro was at her for keeping this to herself, for sacrificing herself, Lark had planned to tear this world apart. She had already started, and she couldn’t be killed. By portaling her away, Isla had saved them.

And now, it was up to them to save her.

“She’s in danger,” Oro said. “And it’s not just about her—”

“Speak for yourself,” Grim snarled, looking at Oro with nothing short of contempt.

Oro sighed and continued, “Cleo told us of a prophecy that predicted a war between worlds. One that would end us all. Every realm. Every subject. Reduced to dust. Crowntide.”

“A storm to end all storms. Perhaps hers was only the beginning . . .” Azul looked at them warily. “What do you need now?”

Oro didn’t know how to say the words. How to ask this of him. Grim, it seemed, didn’t have any qualms with getting to the point.

“We need you to speak to your dead husband,” he said, holding out his hand impatiently, as if this was already taking too much time.

Oro cast a withering look at Grim. Azul only blinked at the Nightshade’s outstretched palm.

“My . . . husband?” he said, as if he could hardly speak the words.

Oro sighed. “We’re hoping he has information that can help us get Isla back. And . . . we believe part of his soul might be in a different world. The one the island disappeared to during the curses.”

Azul, for his credit, didn’t ask any more questions. He just straightened, and said, “Take me to my husband.”