Part of her itched to draw her puddle of stars and leave again, but she decided to wait. It had been amonth. She was tired of staying up late at night, wondering about his absence.
An hour became two. Then three.
Finally, the door to his room opened.
It was not Grim.
It was a woman.
Isla stood from the chair she had been lounging in, and the woman froze. Then, her eyes narrowed. “Who are you?” she demanded.
Who wasshe?
The woman, mercifully, closed the door, as if she had walked in on something private, and Isla portaled away.
Isla felt inexplicable rage. Had he decided to start looking for the sword with someone else? Had he cut her out of his plan? No. She wouldn’t let him. She needed him to fulfill his side of their deal.
She knew where the sword was. She would find it herself, and he would be forced to help her at the Centennial.
Isla put on the only black clothing she had—the unfortunately flimsy dress from Creetan’s Crag, with her black cape atop it, which conveniently covered the sword strapped to her back—and portaled away.
Grim’s lessons had been useful. She needed a map to find the Caves of Irida. Then she could work on trying to portal there.
That was how she ended up in the night market.
It was less than an hour to sunset, and the place was still surprisingly busy. A few carts began packing up for the night. Some people ventured inside large buildings that looked mostly abandoned.
They made a good vantage point. All she needed to do was spot a map shop from above and wait until sunset to sneak inside and find what she was looking for. That way, she wouldn’t risk running into trouble again.
She left the market and entered the closest building. The ground floor seemed to be an extension of the shops, a place to trade when the sun went down. It was bustling with the sounds of carts being pushed inside from out, haggling, and whispers.
No maps sold, though. Higher. She needed to go higher and get a better view of the market outside.
The stairs creaked but were empty. So was the second floor. There were just a few boxes and barrels lining the large room, all the way to windows caked in dust. She rubbed her cape against one and peered outside. Shops were folding closed.
In the corner of her vision, she spotted it. A stall with elixirs sold at the front and parchment in the back. A large map took up its entire back wall—
Footsteps sounded behind her.
Then, “What do we have here?”
Isla turned to see the room was now quite occupied. A dozen Nightshades stood around. Had they been invisible when she walked in? Or had they soundlessly followed her?
She drew her sword. One of them laughed. Her own shadow behind her whipped like a viper and knocked her blade away.
Shadow-wielders. Her chest filled with dread.
Isla quickly turned, deciding to take her chance on the window. She was only on the second floor—
Before she could break through the glass, shadows wrapped around her ankle and dragged her across the room.
Her cheek hit a snag on the floor and tore open. Broken glass stabbed through her hands and her thin dress.
When she was forced to her knees, blood dripped down her chin and chest. She couldn’t even move her fingers.
Her cape was ripped away from her by invisible hands, and she gasped at the cold. The man was circling now, a predator leering at his prey.
“Who are you?” he asked.
