He swallows. ‘Mira and Agnes are still in the hands of the ruling council. Alive for now, that’s all we know. Mira is representing Arnhem in the Trials. Penscalo has been recaptured by the watch.’ He blinks. ‘There are more people fleeing other islands, finding their way here. We are the last stand now against the watch and ruling council. They have been swift, brutal—’
‘And what of Lowri? Eli?’ Brielle asks desperately, trying to find some good, some hope.
‘That is the worst news of all, Bri,’ Caden says quietly, eyes finally meeting hers. ‘They have not returned.’
Drake cry haunts the city of Highborn. As Brielle and Pearl slink through the shadowed back alleyways in the gathering twilight, Brielle realises what the cry means. The creature is in mourning.
‘Unusual for drakes to travel this far south, isn’t it?’ Pearl asks quietly. ‘Especially to somewhere so populated by humans.’
‘It is,’ Brielle agrees. She doesn’t want to admit it, but that ethereal cry is known as an ill omen in the Spines, where the majority of drakes reside. ‘Best get off the streets and to an inn.’
‘Why an inn?’ Pearl asks, tilting her chin.
Brielle smiles. ‘Best place to hear the gossip. And, usually, the food’s better than in those fancy places. I’m hungry.’
Pearl mirrors Brielle’s smile, sharp tiny teeth on display, and Brielle wonders, not for the first time, how deadly her companion truly is for Caden to insist that she accompanies Brielle. As soon as Caden had filled her in, Brielle made a quick plan with him, Kai and Merryam, trying to contain her guilt over not being there aboardPhantomthe day they were taken. Leaving her newly formed coven under the watchful eye of Amma and Tanith, she repacked straight away, replenished her purse and set sail for the mainland of Arnhem with Pearl.
‘Mira’s always been brave,’ Pearl says quietly. ‘Aboard Renshaw’s ship, when we were captured, she held her own. Never gave in, never faltered, even when Renshaw … well. She’s a monster.’
‘So this is personal for you?’ Brielle asks, weaving round a group of revellers. The streets are packed with people from all over the continent descending on Highborn to witness the Trials unfold.
Pearl glances at Brielle. ‘My family are Mer, Eli and the others. My home is Ennor.’ A carriage trundles past and Pearl swerves to avoid one of the horses as it tosses its head. ‘Mira is one of us now and that’s why Caden sent me. We never leave one of our own behind.’
She’s loyal, then, Brielle realises, regarding this slight girl quietly. They call her little ghost, and she has heard rumours of her talents, how she slips in and out, how she employs the use of poisons rather effectively. Loyalty is the vein that runs through the heart of Ennor, but that’s not why Pearl specifically was chosen by Caden for this mission. She’s sure of it.
She worries most for Kell, a seething rage burning slowly inside her at the thought of the watch ripping him from Helene and taking him to be used as a pawn in these Trials. Mira, she knows, is a fighter. She has a heart of iron, a will that cannot so easily be broken. But Kell has been hidden and protected for so long. She’s not sure he will know how to survive the Trials. And then there’s Agnes. Brielle has no knowledge of where she could be. She hopes that Pearl is also very useful as a spy, thatlittle ghosthas more than one meaning.
‘Lead the way, Hunter,’ Pearl says as they enter the merchant’s quarter of the city in the south-east.
Far from the coven strongholds in the north ofHighborn, where the most established houses line leafy streets, the merchant’s quarter is more ramshackle in nature, and far more populated. As such, it’s a melting pot of poor and rich, a place to make your fortune, or die in the attempt. The inns and pubs are the best grounds to hunt for information in the city, and Brielle glances down a cobbled street still packed with revellers and street hawkers, the scent of their wares wafting over her in heady waves: baked goods, cheap bottles of lemonade and ale, pickled eels curling in pots. She looks both ways, checking they haven’t been followed, before heading through the old wooden door of the Wanderer’s Rest.
Inside, the air is so smoky and thick you could chew on it, the atmosphere rowdy and the beer flowing free and fast. Brielle and Pearl find a small table that wobbles near the bar, and Brielle has to duck her head as a tray of frothing drinks is scooped up and carried above her by one of the barmen.
‘Watch your pockets in here,’ she says to Pearl. ‘And I’ll order for—’
‘You do know where I grew up, don’t you?’ Pearl interjects, placing her forearms on the table. ‘If there’s a better pickpocket than me in this place, I’ll shake their hand andgivethem my coin.’
Brielle eyes her. ‘Wheredidyou grow up?’
‘Finnikin’s Way,’ she says with a wink, neatly hooking two glasses off a tray as a barmaid is distracted, and passing one to Brielle. She sniffs it, shrugs, then takes a tiny sip of the pale green wine before looking backat Brielle. ‘Caden didn’t send you here with someone you’d need to coddle.’
Brielle shrugs as well, realising she may have underestimated this girl. She clinks her glass against Pearl’s. ‘Fair enough. I heard that community disappeared. Just upped and left without a trace. Do you miss any of them?’
Pearl laughs quietly. ‘In a word, no. The day Eli rescued me from that place was the day I was born anew. Doesn’t mean I don’t wonder where they’ve hunkered down, though. They’re smart – it’s how they’ve survived so long. The ruling council and their watch would have a job catching them.’ She glances around. ‘So, who are you hoping to see here?’
Brielle takes a long sip, her gaze lingering on a group walking inside. ‘The watch.’
Pearl splutters, wiping her chin. ‘Have you lost it?The watch?’
‘They’re going to sit down at the next table, so act natural,’ Brielle mutters, flagging down a passing barmaid to order some food.
Pearl’s version of acting natural is to shrink further into her chair, glancing crossly at the men barging through the crowd to take seats round the table next to them. The four men are all off duty, but Brielle can tell a man of the watch from a mile away. Entitled, superior and rough round the edges. One of them grabs the arm of a barman, clicking his fingers as he orders drinks ‘on the house’.
As Brielle and Pearl’s food arrives, they eat their slices of pie and greens quietly, senses attuned to the men and every jewel of information they begin dropping unknowingly into their laps.
‘That drake needs putting down. What a noise,’ one man says, scratching at a lump on his ear.
‘Along with that girl they’re keeping in the tower room.’
