The girl smiled back tentatively.Good.“Of course. It’s Ella, lady.” She shook her head. “I mean,Isla.”
Isla dipped her head, the way she had watched people do when they were about to speak in confidence. She had heard many a secret whispered in a back alley, or on the outskirts of a village, thanks to her starstick. Over time, she had learned how to go undercover, to blend into a crowd so seamlessly that no one would guess she didn’t belong. “I notice you walk with a limp, Ella,” she said.
The Starling girl looked taken aback. She took a shaky step away, and Isla wondered if she should have waited longer ... or if she had been too direct. The girl’s hand went instinctively to her leg. “My—my bone,” Ella finally said. “It broke a while ago and never healed right.”
Isla frowned. “Aren’t there Moonling healers here that could help?” Their skills were legendary. Beyond controlling water, healing was their power.
“At a cost,” Ella said, smiling weakly. “If at all, lately.” Isla wondered what she meant, but before she could ask, Ella added, “Also ... I’m not so far from twenty-five. It wouldn’t, it wouldn’t—”
Be worth it.Isla winced. Even with Celeste as her best friend, sometimes she forgot about the cruelty of their curse. No Starling had lived past twenty-five in hundreds of years.
“Well,” Isla said, reaching into the pocket in her dress. “This should help.” She handed over the tub of paste, a Wildling healing elixir made from specially grown flora. The same potion that had healed the cut on her palm from the ceremony the day before.
Ella just stared at the tub placed in her hand until finally Isla curled the Starling’s fingers around the container and gently pushed her hand away, signaling for her to take it.
“Now,” Isla said brightly. “I need something fromyou.”
With the means to getting regular meals delivered settled, Isla set off for the marketplace, an invitation from the tailor that Ella had brought in her hands. Before participating in any of the six demonstrations, she needed new clothes. There were only so many outfits one could pack in the allotted luggage, so each Centennial, every ruler was gifted a custom wardrobe.
Today was Isla’s appointment.
She heard Poppy in her ear.
Your dresses are your armor—your jewels are your weapons.They were the tools of a seductress.
It was the role Poppy had trained her for, as the first step of her guardian’s plan—which Isla had no intention of following. She might not have powers, but that didn’t mean she waspowerless.
She could blend in. Listen. Hide. Strategize. All skills her and Celeste’s plan required.
Ella had insisted on escorting Isla to the agora at the center of the Mainland, where the tailor operated. The Wildling Eldress had mentioned it in her stories, asan enchanting place that blooms at night, like a flower facing the sun.
Isla had insisted on going alone. It would give her a good opportunity to scope out this part of the island, to watch the islanders from a distance, unnoticed for as long as possible.
With three words, that plan went out the window.
“You’re up early.”Grim.
Isla swallowed, suddenly too aware of how tightly the fabric of her gown clung to her as she turned around.
Only to find him inches away.
Isla stumbled back. It took her a moment too long to find her voice. “So are you.”
Grim lifted a broad shoulder, looking down at her just as she was forced to crane her neck up to maintain eye contact. “I like to take advantage of any time I can be out.”
Right. His curse was the mirror of Oro’s. Nightshades could not feel the energy and calm of night. Though they used to be nocturnal, choosing to live in darkness, that all changed five hundred years before.
“And I have business in the agora.”
“As do I,” Isla said.
Grim grinned. “Good. I hate walking alone.”
Guards stood along the entrance and noticeably stiffened as Grim passed. Isla tried not to think about all the terrible things she had heard about Nightshades. Abouthim.She tried and failed, and though her chin was held high, her legs went boneless beneath her.
Terra always said they were the most dangerous of the realms. Nightshades drew power from darkness, while all others drew from light. Rumors of their abilities abounded—the power to disappear, move through walls, spin nightmares, wield darkness itself.
Grimshaw had a reputation. There had been a war between Lightlark and Nightshade, just decades before the curses were spun. He had been the most fearsome warrior. It was rumored that by the end of a battle, his cloak was always soaked through with the blood of his enemies. Which only made his clear discomfort at Isla eating the heart at dinner more confusing.
