From one aisle over came Quinn’s voice. “No engravings. Wrong handle. Too small. Too large.” Metal clinked as she sifted through another heap.
I turned a corner and stopped short.
Hundreds of spoons were mounted on the wall. Polished, dented, bone-handled, gold-plated?—
None matched Durik’s sketch.
Then I saw it.
A glass case tucked in the corner, edges fogged and warped. Inside sat a single silver spoon. Spiral handle. Petal-shaped bowl. Troll falcon crest. Hairline crack.
My heart thudded.
“Found it,” I whispered to Branrir as he appeared on my left.
“It matches exactly.” Branrir settled beside me, his expression tense. “Grab it. Quick.”
He lifted the lid. The case wasn’t locked. That should have been my first warning. It opened with a sigh. The hair at the back of my neck prickled. I reached in and closed my fingers around the spoon.
“THIEVES!”
The shopkeeper goblin wailed, foaming at the mouth. It vaulted the counter with terrifying speed, sprinting straight for me. Several others poured out from behind a curtain.
“Run!” I bellowed.
We tore through the door, the cracked bell clanging wildly overhead. Boots pounded on slick stone. The goblins shrieked in pursuit, curses flying like knives. The whole market seemed to wake, a beast roused and lashing out.
There was a sudden yank at my chest that stopped me dead in my tracks.
The tether.
Quinn.
“Where is she?” I rasped.
Branrir’s eyes were wild. “She was behind us—she was right behind us?—”
A scream tore through the air.
Herscream.
Time fractured.
“No!” The word ripped raw from my throat. “No, no, no!”
The smoke, shadows, and shouts blurred as I ran back to the rotting shop. I drew my sword and crashed through the doorway. I caught a flash of Quinn’s cloak vanishing through a back curtain, dragged by bony hands.
“Quinn!”
There was no time for planning. I sprinted straight through the curtain and into a trap. Four goblins were waiting for me.
I swung first, my blade biting deep into one’s shoulder. Another drove a pointed elbow into my gut. Air ripped from my lungs as I was forced back through the curtain and into the shop. A third clubbed my knee. I dropped hard, pain lancing white through my leg. A boot slammed into my ribs where my woundwas still healing, and I thought I might lose consciousness. The world reeled sideways.
“Mav!” she shouted.
Her eyes met mine as two goblins pushed her through another door and into an alleyway. I crawled forward. I had to get to her.
Rough hands seized my collar and hurled me into a stack of cages. Metal screamed. Glass shattered. I staggered upright—half-blind, half-mad with fury. A goblin leaped onto my back, claws sinking deep. I bellowed in pain and tried to shake him off. Several sets of goblin hands grabbed me, hoisting me into the air. They threw me through the doorway. The ground rushed up to meet me. I landed outside on the cold, stone street. Pain exploded through my ribs and head. My ears rang. My vision spun.
