She blinked. “Are you following me?”
Going from completely avoiding her to trailing her ... it made no sense. What had changed?
What was he after?
Grim raised an eyebrow. “No. I was here for my own reasons, and I sensed you.”
“Sensed me?”Own reasons?
He nodded. “Your emotions, they have a tinge ... a color, almost. I knew you were nearby.”
She didn’t know how she felt about that. Wanted to know what color she was but didn’t ask. Instead, she raised her chin and said, “Creep.”
Isla turned to walk out of the marketplace, and Grim easily matched her pace. “You know, if you’re asking Juniper for information, I might recommend taking precautions. I can make him forget your conversation, if you would like. Or simply threaten him for his silence ...” She glared at him while simultaneously considering taking him up on his offer. Juniper had helped her, but it was impossible to trust a barkeep who traded secrets.
She really had hoped Juniper knew how to open the vault in the Place of Mirrors. It clearly required a key—one she had no time to look for.
Finding the bondbreaker had to be her focus.
Though, something told her whatever was in the vault could help her locate it.
She couldn’t describe it ... but the door pulled to her, spoke to her. Told her in its own silent language that she needed to get it open.
If only she had the time and resources to make that happen.
“You’re disappointed, Isla.” She blinked, and there Grim was, stopped in her path, watching her. The castle loomed far ahead, high on its cliff like a crouching giant.
Her back teeth clashed together. She stopped too. “I told you not to read me.”
“And I told you I couldn’t help it.”
She crossed her arms, mouth already open in reply—
When the sky cracked open like an egg.
Rain soaked her clean through in an instant. It stormed so hard that she could barely see through her lashes. Grim was just a dark figure before her. She heard him, though, his deep laughter like a rumble of thunder.
Wind blew her hair and dress back, hissed in her ears. The trees at their sides arched, their leaves dancing wildly.
Grim reached out a hand. And she took it.
The castle was too far, and Isla wasn’t sure any of the Nightshade’s powers could shield them from rain. He led them to the closest building, the abbey she had seen many times before, with the stained-glass eye at its front.
Grim opened the front door with a blast of dark power and pulled them through.
She was panting, freezing. Drenched. Her hair stuck to her face in wild strands, and her dress—her dress clung to her, outlining her every inch. She reached up to take her crown off and found it knotted in her hair.
Grim stood a few feet away, watching her.
He was soaked too. Dark hair splayed against his forehead, dripping tiny droplets down the sides of his face. The black fabrics he always wore now seemed too fine, barely even there, the muscles beneath them now perfectly defined. His cape dripped softly against the wooden floor of the convent as he slowly walked over. And when she looked into his eyes, she found no humor there, no amusement.
Grim stopped just inches away, and Isla stopped breathing. He reached toward her, and she went still—but his hands simply went to her crown. His fingers gently, carefully, pulled at the strands of her hair wrapped around the metal, unknotting it from her head.
He pulled a little too hard on one piece, and she made a sound that made Grim immediately meet her gaze. Something wicked danced within his eyes, something that made the bottom of Isla’s spine curl.
There were no lights in the abbey, no flame. Only the single, rounded stained-glass window offered muted daylight as the storm raged on, rain pattering violently against the glass. And Isla could have sworn the dusky corners of the room darkened further, ink spilling over, shadows lengthening toward the rows of pews.
She took a tight, shaky breath and convinced herself it was because of the cold. Grim watched her mouth and said, “You’re feeling ... distressed, Hearteater.”
