Crowntide by Alex Aster - 87

HOURS BEFORE

Isla had a plan. It was reckless. It probably wouldn’t work. But for them, for him , she had to try.

Even if it ended in her death.

“You hate me,” she told Lark in their cell without preamble.

Lark could hardly even look over at her. “Of course, I do.”

“But you hate Cronan more.”

Lark did not deny it. Isla crawled over to her ancestor, ignoring the smell of rot. Lark’s face was mottled with infection and decaying flesh. This time, she had barely been able to reform. A simple breeze would have her dispersing again. It was a wonder she could speak at all. “He is stifling your powers. You might never die, but this is a cruel existence.”

Lark did not deny that either.

“I can kill him,” Isla said. “I almost did.”

Lark finally met her gaze, laughing. “You can’t defeat him,” she said.

“You’re right. Not alone. But with help . . .”

“What do you want?” Lark snapped.

“Tell me how to kill you.”

Lark bared her teeth at her. They were just jagged shards of rot.

Isla sighed. They didn’t have time for this. “Let me kill you, and I will absorb your power and bring you back to life,” she said.

Lark’s eyes caught on the mark Isla had carved on her arm with the feather, before her ancestor woke up. Isla could see the realization setting. She looked as if she might just carve the skyre into herself. But her hands were just ribbons of flesh. There was hardly anything left to carve into .

“I need you,” Isla said, plainly. “I told you; I can’t do this alone. Together is the only way we end him. Both of us, impervious to death. He would be powerless against us.”

Lark peered at her for a long time, clearly weighing her options. They had trusted each other, once before, in the Forgotten Forest. All in the name of survival.

“I know you hate me,” Isla spat, her hands in frustrated fists. “But we’re family. That has to—it has to mean something.” She thought about her mother and all the generations of Wildling rulers before her. She could almost see them in this cell, standing between them, even the ones she couldn’t name. Her eyes burned. “Please,” she said, the word a desperate rasp. “Don’t let him end us all. Don’t let him kill everything you have created.”

It felt like years before Lark leaned forward.

And told her what she needed to know.

It took less than a moment for Isla to end her ancestor’s life—and her eyes widened as all that infinite, ancient power flowed into her veins. As she became the last living ruler of her bloodline. The world went silver as her body was filled to the brim with energy. It took a few moments to breathe around this endless wave of power. To be able to reach its surface, and force it back into her chest, in a blazing seed of strength. Finally, the cell came back into focus.

Isla looked over at Lark’s corpse. “Good riddance, you murderous bitch,” she said.

She stood, leaving Lark in a pile of her own rot, and bent the shademade cell bars with her bare hands before bursting through the walls.