It was covered in markings, the most prominent a large swirl. The rest depicted battle—men and women dressed in armor, holding swords and shields. Some rode giant beasts she didn’t recognize. She traced the drawings with her fingers.
“Is it everything you hoped it would be?” Grim asked.
She turned. “It’s much more.”
“Even if it’s almost empty?”
Isla hadn’t gotten to explore the entirety of the palace, but she guessed she would find it cleared out, the same way the other rooms were.
“The fact that it’s still here ...” She pressed her palm against the wall. “Gives me hope. That Wildlings can survive all of this.”
Grim was somewhere else—she could see it in his eyes. She wondered what he was thinking about. Every move he made was confusing.
“What are the Nightshade lands like?” she asked, not really knowing why.
Even with her starstick, she hadn’t dared travel to their territory. Terra’s warnings about them had kept her away.
Grim looked at her for a long time. “One day,” he said, “I’ll show you.”
Isla waited for the cloak of darkness before leaving the castle. Oro still hadn’t returned to her door. The night was hers. And she made careful use of it.
She wished for Grim’s power to see easily in the dark as she took the path through the Mainland, the moon her only guide. On their way back, she had made sure to study the route to Wild Isle intently, but everything looked different touched by night.
The path continued too long when it should have disappeared under overgrowth. She must have taken a wrong turn or missed it completely. Soon, she was back at the Mainland castle.
Isla cursed and tried again. She strained to remember the curve of the trees, or the number of steps she had counted hours before while trying her best to mask her emotions around Grim. He couldn’t know that the entire time he was answering her questions, she was thinking about what she had spotted in the Place of Mirrors—and how soon she could go back. Alone.
She squinted through the darkness, then bent so that her fingers could trail the path, waiting for the wildflowers to begin smothering the stone, marking the place she needed to follow.
If she had Wildling powers, she could simply call to the forest and listen for its reply. Follow its song to the palace.
But she didn’t. So, she continued stumbling blindly through the night.
Finally, grass brushed against her fingers, a second path veering from the first. She followed it to the forest and hesitated. The moon was locked out of the woods, blocked almost completely by hunched-over trees. She would have to feel her way through. And hope the forest was satisfied with the amount of blood she had already shed for it.
Isla ducked her head lower, wondering if she should come back in the morning. She wondered even as she continued through the woods, thorns catching on her ankles. Even as she tripped over a vine and landed on her hands and knees.
No—no one could know about her midnight journey to the Wildling palace.
Not even Grim.
By the time she stumbled into Wild Isle, her hair had been tangled out of its braid, and she felt the sharp sting of cuts across her palms. But even the pain stilled as she regarded the building in front of her.
At night, the Place of Mirrors reflected only darkness. Her light-brown clothes cut through it like a blade. She watched herself peel from the shadows of the bare woods like a specter.
Inside, moonlight showered down once more. The floors above groaned, as if awakened from a slumber. Wooden walls somewhere cracked.Normal ancient palace noises,Isla told herself. Something thudded against the glass above.Just a fallen branch.Still, she quickly made her way through the halls and rooms, only stopping at the back wall.
She had seen it, earlier in the day, with Grim. And knew she had to go back.
Isla recognized the spiral on the wall as a door. It was the same shape as the one hidden within her chambers, beneath a broken panel in her closet. The same place she had found her starstick, tucked within her mother’s things.
If the Wildlings had a secret door, whatever was inside must have been important enough to hide. And it must still be intact, unlike the rest of the palace.
She had a feeling whatever was inside could help her now. That it held something she needed.
Isla had to get into the vault.
She pushed against the spiral door with all her might, expecting it to creak open with enough effort, just like the one in her room had.
