The streets were filled with dozens of torches dug into the stone, burning even though the day was warm and the sun was out. Sunling guards seemed to be in charge of keeping them lit, flames curling from their palms.
They reached a shop with crystalline glass windows, each pane cut in an emerald shape. Inside sat a rainbow of Wildling colors—spools of fabric, ribbon, thread, and piles of pins.
All for her.
“Enjoy,” Grim said mockingly, and then he was gone.
Vanished. There one moment and gone the next. A chill tripped down her spine.
What would it be like, having a power like invisibility?
She entered the shop.
A bell rang, announcing her presence. A young Starling man with pins stuck into a cushion on his wrist froze. Isla waited for his eyes to widen in disgust or fear.
But the tailor bowed gracefully. “Isla, ruler of Wildlings. Pleasure. What happened to your gown?” Before she could respond, he lifted a hand. “Not to worry—Ionly use giant spider silk in my shop ... Doesn’t stain ... strong as steel ... and the fit is unparalleled.” He motioned for her to step onto the platform.
“Preferred colors?”
The answers that came out of her mouth might as well have come from Poppy’s, hundreds of miles away in the Wildling realm. Isla had been taught exactly what to say.
“Green. Red. Purples and pinks, on occasion.”
“Preferred fit?”
“Tight.”
“Length?”
“Long.”
He examined her. “How attached are you to this dress?”
She looked down at it and shrugged. “Not especially.”
“Good,” he said, and snapped his fingers. At once, everything in the shop floated. Thanks to Celeste, Isla knew this realm’s powers well. Starlings channeled energy from the stars, allowing them to move objects. He pointed a finger, and a spool of rich, bloodred fabric flew across the room, wrapping around Isla in a flash, so fast that it replaced the pink she had been wearing before, and she only realized it when she saw her old dress in ribbons on the floor. The red wrapped breathtakingly tightly around her waist; floating scissors made rough slices; flying threads and needles sewed at an impossible speed. The tailor directed it all likeleading an orchestra, hands moving gracefully in front of him. Another sheet of fabric formed a silky, gauzy cape. A bodice was expertly crafted around her, and she was tied tightly into its corset, sucking her breath.
In seconds, she was in a new, beautiful gown.
She turned to face the tailor and found someone else sitting in the shop, elbows on his knees.
“How did you get in here?” she asked incredulously.
Grim looked bored. He raised an eyebrow at her, as if to say,Is that a serious question?
The tailor eyed him—remaining surprisingly calm compared to the other islanders they had encountered—and turned his attention to Isla. “How does it feel?”
She regarded herself in the many mirrors. “Like water. The fabric ... it’s smooth as a rose petal.”
“Giant spider silk, Ruler. I’ll get to work on your wardrobe.”
Keeping her voice as low as possible, and shooting another look in Grim’s direction, she said, “If it isn’t any trouble, in addition to the dresses, I require something more suited for fighting. Pants. Armor.”Thoseinstructions came from Terra. As the tailor wrote down some notes, she peered behind him, getting a good look at the back room ... and the lock on its door.
The tailor placed his hands perfectly together, as if in prayer. Hedidseem to worship clothes more than most people did their rulers. “My pleasure. I will have everything sent to the castle shortly.”
Isla thanked him and glared daggers at Grim as she left the shop, knowing he would like it. Sharing chocolate had seemed to put some of her fears about Nightshades and their powers to rest. Part of her was surprised that she felt so comfortable around a man after only a few days of knowing him. And perhaps that was just what he wanted—for her to let her guard down. “Could you be less of a creep?” she said.
Grim’s expression turned serious. “If you would like me to leave you alone, I will. Say the word, and I’ll vanish.”
