Then she felt the note that had been slipped into her hand.
It was a small piece of paper. The words made her go still.
You are in danger,the paper read.
What? Isla whipped around, looking for who had given her the warning. She spotted a white cape weaving through the market, head down. That had to be them.
A Moonling?
She wasn’t going to sit around and solve the riddle of who might want to harm her. There were too many people on that list.
Instead, she followed whoever had slipped her the message.
Music was playing in the streets, a quartet no doubt hired to build excitement for the ball. Stores kept their doors open, and young boys and girls shouted advertisements—special offer! Two pairs of gloves for the price of one! One-of-a-kind hats for one-of-a-kind islanders!
Isla rushed through the crowd, pushing past shoppers holding stacks of boxes tied with ribbon. Children holding cones of cream. She whispered apologies that were met with frightened gasps as she nearly collided with a wagon holding ripe fruits and freshly roasted nuts. But there, far ahead, she saw it. A flash of white fabric, disappearing around a corner.
Celeste was suddenly in her path then, on her way to the Starling shop. Her friend’s eyes narrowed with confusion as Isla ran past, whispering, “I’ll be right back,” leaving without waiting for a response.
Her arms tight by her sides to slip through the busy road, she moved like a ribbon in wind, her feet finding free places on the pavement, her body filling gaps in the sea of people. Moments later, she was turning that same corner, onto a street that was almost empty. So empty she could see the Moonling racing away, the trail of their cape billowing in the breeze.
This tendril of the marketplace went down instead of up into the mountains. The air was heavy with salt and fish and brine. The rough cobblestone became wet beneath her shoes, and she nearly slipped in her rush to catch the Moonling.
She turned another corner. And they were gone.
Too slow.She had lost them. The sea was near. She was in the remnants of what must have been a harbor, hundreds of years before, when the island wasn’t entrapped in its curse.
Isla forced herself still, refusing to give up. She looked around, squinting, searching for a sound or a ripple of fabric.
She turned in the other direction—and found it. The curl of the white cape, disappearing behind a ship that had somehow made it onto land. It looked like a washed-up whale, flipped on its side.
Isla took a step and gasped.
Chains from nowhere locked around her wrists and ankles.
And the cool edge of a sword pressed firmly against her throat.
“That was a little too easy,” a low voice said in her ear. Isla yanked against the chains and found that they weren’t chains at all. They were braided water, firm as a rogue wave, strong as the tide.
Five more men peeled away from where they had been hidden, behind ancient boathouses and landlocked ships. They wore crisp white suits, with diamonds in place of the top button of their shirts.
Moonling nobles. She recognized them from the demonstrations.
A growl escaped her throat. She became a little more of the beast they believed her to be.
The person in the white cape appeared then, and Isla bared her teeth at them, her gaze promising violence. The figure didn’t even glance her way before it was handed a handful of coin and slipped away.
A trap. She had been tricked.
Fool.
No.Theywere the fools.
She lifted her chin high and said with as much venom as she could manage, “Release me, and I will show mercy. Keep me bound, and you will all see what happens when you try to trap a Wildling.”
The men only smiled.
“Wild, even captured,” one said. His white hair was slicked back, and he gingerly held a cane with a crystal top, though he clearly didn’t need it. He pointed the cane in Isla’s direction, and the water chains tightened, forcing her onto her knees. Isla seethed as her bones screamed and her skin broke against the damp stone floor. “But even wild things can be tamed. And caged. Tell me, will you beg for your life, Wildling?”
