Ella spoke from her place at the back of the throne room. “It’s true,” her attendant said. “I saw them for a moment. There are Starlings among them, I’m almost certain.”
“Who?” Oro demanded. Isla remembered his threat. He would string any of them up across the Bay of Teeth. “Give me names.”
Ella did not hesitate. “I didn’t recognize anyone specifically. They wore masks. They must have Starlings among them, though, because no one else knows about the tunnels in the crypts.”
Oro frowned. “Crypts?”
“They were built during the curses. To house the many dead. And hide us from the rest of the island.” Anger curled in Isla’s stomach as she remembered hearing about the abuse of the Starlings. “We kept them a secret, because of that. They’re the only reason some of us are still alive . . . and they’re the only way to get past the creatures that took over the east side of Star Isle.”
“What do you mean, creatures?” Isla asked.
“Monsters. No one goes there anymore, except through the tunnels to gather supplies. Anyone who goes too far . . . never returns.”
Guilt swirled in Isla’s stomach. She had been so focused on her powers and the Wildlings, she had abandoned the Starlings beyond asking Oro to send guards and provisions. She should have gone to Star Isle sooner. She should have made sure they were okay.
She wouldn’t waste another moment. “Ella. Will you send word to Maren? I’m going to Star Isle.”
“I’m going with you,” Oro said.
She turned to face him and said in a low voice, “I need to go alone.”
He frowned.
“Not alone,” she clarified. “Ciel and Avel will be there.” Her Skyling warriors inched closer.
Isla imagined Oro would demand to speak to every Starling and interrogate them over any information about the rebels. That wasn’t what they needed. That wasn’t the way Isla wanted to first address her new people.
Oro nodded, but he didn’t look happy in the slightest. He turned to Azul. “Did your spies hear anything else about the rebels? Has anyone else been attacked? Threatened?”
Azul shook his head. “No one else.”
That couldn’t be true. Why only target her?
If what Ella said was correct, that there must be Starlings among the rebels . . . that didn’t make sense. They had hurt her. They could have killed her, which would have led to the deaths of all Wildlings and Starlings.
Something wasn’t adding up.
Isla caught up with Ella before she left the Mainland castle. She felt awkward asking her these questions, but she had to know. “Are the Starlings . . . are they disappointed that I’m their ruler now? Are they angry that I still haven’t visited?”
“No. They know you were attacked and that you’ve been busy since.”
Isla frowned. “They must resent me, though. They must—”
Ella laughed. Isla didn’t think she had ever seen the Starling laugh before.
“Isla,” she said softly. “All of us grew up accepting that our lives would be short and likely miserable. Few of us had any dreams. Or goals. Or hope. You gave us a chance to live. To most of us, you are a god. A savior.”
As she walked back to her room to change into her training clothes, Isla repeated the words she had told herself in the Wildling newland woods. She was strong. She was the ruler of Wildling.
And the ruler of Starling.
Isla closed her wardrobe after getting a dress and froze.
In the mirror, there was Grim, standing in a full suit of armor. He held his helmet loosely in his hand. Ready for war.
She spun around and shot her arm out. A branch from the tree of her room snapped off, then sharpened into a blade. It stabbed right through the room.
But it was empty.
CINDER
Star Isle was in ruins. Its castle looked long abandoned. Towers lay in the sparkling silver dirt. Windows had been blown open. The pathways were covered in rocks and trash. Ciel and Avel flew above, circling so high up she had to squint to see them. Ella was at her side.
Maren, the Starling representative from the dinner, met them at the entrance of the crumbling castle. There was a little girl with her, with the same shining dark hair, wide eyes, and light-brown skin. “My cousin,” she said curtly. The cousin stared at Isla and opened her mouth to say something a few times, but Maren gave her a look, and the little girl went quiet. “They’re all in the throne room.”
“Is everyone all right?” Isla asked. The Sunling guards at the bridge hadn’t seen the rebels. There were Skylings in the rebel group—they must have flown in from another isle. Their motivations were a mystery. Why only target her? “Did the rebels . . .”
“We’re safe. Thankfully, it seemed they were just recruiting. Or, perhaps, looking for something.”
She frowned. “Why do you think that?”
Maren raised a shoulder. “Why else venture through the crypts? They’re dangerous. All Starlings know that. No one goes inside them unless they’re desperate.”
When she walked into the castle, Isla’s stomach plummeted.
Much of the room was empty, and everyone was breathtakingly young. Children, mostly. Only a few dozen looked to be around her age.
They watched as she walked through the crowd, to the front of the throne room. There were no seats, and because they were all standing, so did she.
“I don’t know what I’m doing” was the first thing that came out of her mouth, and she almost instantly regretted it.
They just stared at her. There was just silence, until a voice said, “No one here does,” quite cheerfully.
“Cinder!” Maren said, shooting her cousin a look. “Forgive my cousin, Ruler.” The girl couldn’t be more than eight years old, and she didn’t stop beaming, even when Maren elbowed her side. Some people around her nodded.
“It’s okay,” Isla said, smiling at Cinder. She felt a little better . . . and worse. It might have been a relief to get here and see that someone had everything taken care of. “How many Starlings are left on Star Isle?”
“There are a hundred or so more,” a man closer to her age said. He looked to be one of the oldest among them, with a strong jaw, messy silver hair, and white skin. “Give or take.”
She frowned. “Did they know about the meeting?”
The man smiled without humor. “They knew.” There was something in between his teeth that he was chewing, long and glimmering.
“Okay.” Isla wove her fingers together and drew in a breath, straightening her spine. She wouldn’t let opposition deter her; it was to be expected. First, then, the simple questions. “Where do you all live?” She waved a hand around the throne room. “Here? In the castle?”
There was a bubble of laughter somewhere in the crowd.
“Some of us do,” Maren said, looking pointedly at a group of Starlings Isla could now tell apart from the others. Their clothes were nicer. They wore fine strings of constellation-like diamonds around their necks and wrists.
The nobles. Of course. She recognized some of them from the Centennial. There were eight of them in the group, all with different features, hair textures, and skin tones. Unrelated, it seemed. The last of their lines?