She would do anything to keep that fear from becoming reality.
And that, perhaps, scared her most of all.
The Starling ruler was circling the mirror, looking at it carefully. Isla watched from a distance as Celeste strung her fingers together and smiled. “It worked.”
Isla straightened. “How do you know?”
Celeste snapped her fingers, and sparks illuminated the hall. Handprints glowed silver across the mirror’s glass. Every ruler’s print and essence had been stored by the relic.
The Starling pulled a pair of gloves from her pocket. They were so thin they looked translucent. Isla nearly retched. She had done it. She had completed her part of their plan.
Isla opened her mouth, ready to ask if Celeste had truly managed to find a pair of the gloves in a dark market somewhere on Lightlark. The alternative—
Celeste shot her a look that made her think better of it.
Frowning in focus, the Starling slowly rolled on the new gloves. They sounded both papery and leathery, crinkling as they slid down her skin. Isla winced. When they were fully on, Celeste carefully pressed them against each handprint, letting the marks soak into the gloves. They would absorb the energy the enchanted Starling mirror had taken fromall the rulers, to be used later. It was an inconsequential amount. Not enough to be used in battle or make any meaningful display.
But every library on Lightlark had a protected section, a home for each realm’s most valuable relics. Each was guarded by enchantments that only allowed a ruler and their essence to enter.
Wearing these gloves, Isla would be granted access.
Now, she had everything she needed to begin searching the libraries for the bondbreaker.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
TOWER
The next night, Celeste stared at the materials between them and frowned. “Is this really everything?”
“Yes.” Or, at least, what Islathoughtshe needed to make the elixir.
It was the fifteenth day of the Centennial. Isla was anxious to search the next library for the bondbreaker as soon as possible. It hadn’t been on Star Isle, but perhaps they would get lucky and it would be in the Sky Isle collection. If not, she would have to wait until the full moon to go to Moon Isle. And she still hadn’t come up with a plan to get onto Sun Isle unnoticed.
She tried to remain positive. She could very well find the bondbreaker that night. Then they could use it, and both of their bloodlines would be rid of all the curses that afflicted them. Isla would get her Wildling powers she had been denied at birth. The Wildling realm wouldn’t have to kill their beloveds or live on hearts any longer. Celeste and all Starlings would live to see their twenty-sixth birthday.
The bondbreaker was the key to both of their freedoms. And right now, they were counting on some sparse hair dye instructions to get it.
Isla held the torn piece of parchment between them. She couldn’t have asked Poppy for help with this alternate plan, so she had taken a page from one of her guardian’s books, swiped some Wildling-specific ingredients, and hoped for the best.
She read the list out one last time.
“Rose water.”
Check. She had swiped a vial of it from Poppy’s vanity.
“Ash-leaf extract.”
She had only been able to find an ash leaf during a last-minute expedition in the forest and hoped that would do.
“Soil from the ever-changing tulip.”
Check. She had grabbed a small shovel of it from Poppy’s collection. The enchanted flower only grew by the coast in the Wildling newland, where her great-great-grandmother had planted it, straight from the island’s soil. Many of Lightlark’s flowers had been transplanted there in the aftermath of the curses, attempting to create some sort of ecosystem like their island.
And many of them had died since Isla had been born.
She poured a portion of the small pouch of dirt into the pot of hot water Ella had brought her, supposedly for tea.
Finally, she needed some of the color she wanted her hair transformed to. Though Azul’s own hair was dark, many Skylings had hair the color of their realm. Maybe it was fashion, or a way to honor their power source, or perhaps it was natural, like Celeste’s own silver hair—she didn’t know.
