Isla woke the next morning to the sharp knock of reality—and the sharper knock at her door.
She groaned, burying her face deeper into her pillow. The sunlight filtering through the curtains was already unforgiving, and the events of the previous evening pressed down on her like a weight she couldn't shake off. Adrian Blackthorn. The king's decree. Her father's cutting words. It was all a mess, a tangled web she couldn't begin to unravel. And now someone was pounding on her door like the castle was on fire.
"Isla!" Clara's voice came muffled through the door, frantic and high-pitched. "You need to get up! Now!"
"What is it?" Isla croaked, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. "If this is about another announcement, I swear I'll—"
"It's not about you!" Clara interrupted, her voice trembling. "It's about Thomas!"
Isla's heart stopped.
Throwing the blanket off, she practically lunged for the door, yanking it open to reveal Clara, her face pale and her hands wringing her skirts. "What happened?" Isla demanded, her voice sharper than she had intended. "What's wrong with Thomas?"
Clara opened her mouth, but the words seemed to catch in her throat. "He—he's gone."
"What do you mean, *gone*?" Isla felt a wave of dread crash over her, cold and suffocating.
"I mean he's missing!" Clara whispered urgently, glancing up and down the corridor as though afraid someone might overhear. "One of the servants said they saw him leaving the castle early this morning, but no one knows where he went, and—and your father is furious."
Of course, he was. If there was one thing Lord Evander couldn't tolerate, it was anything—or anyone—that disrupted the family's already fragile reputation. And if Thomas had disappeared into the city without permission, their father would likely rain down the full weight of his disappointment on him, and by extension, Isla. Because when it came to their father, Isla was always the one held responsible, no matter who had caused the problem.
"I'll find him," Isla said, already moving to grab her boots and cloak. "Do you have any idea where he might've gone?"
Clara hesitated, her brow furrowed. "He mentioned something last night about… about meeting someone in the lower city. I didn't think he was serious."
"The *lower city*?" Isla's blood ran cold. The lower city was no place for a boy like Thomas, with its narrow, winding alleys and its reputation for harboring thieves, smugglers, and worse. "Why didn't you stop him?"
"I didn't think he'd actually go!" Clara protested, wringing her hands again. "What could he possibly want down there?"
Isla didn't have an answer, but she didn't have time to speculate. She grabbed her cloak, throwing it over her shoulders as she headed for the door. "Stay here," she instructed Clara. "If anyone asks, tell them I'm handling it."
Clara nodded nervously, stepping aside to let her pass. But as Isla strode down the corridor, her mind racing, she couldn't help but feel the weight of what she was walking into. If Thomas was in the lower city, then he was in danger. And if their father found out before she could bring him back…
She didn't want to think about that.
---
The lower city was as chaotic as Isla remembered. The streets were crowded with vendors hawking their goods, children darting between carts and barrels, and shadows slinking in and out of alleyways. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and sweat, and the constant hum of voices created a cacophony that made it difficult to think.
Isla kept her hood up as she navigated the maze of streets, her eyes darting from face to face as she searched for any sign of her brother. She had no idea where to start—Thomas was impulsive, but he wasn't reckless. At least, not usually. Whatever had drawn him here must've been important.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice, smooth and unmistakable.
"Lady Evangeline, slumming it in the lower city? Now *this* is a sight."
She turned sharply to find Adrian leaning casually against the corner of a building, his arms crossed and his ever-present smirk firmly in place. He was dressed more simply than usual, his dark coat blending in with the muted tones of the street, but there was no mistaking him. He looked entirely too comfortable here, like he owned the place.
"What are you doing here?" Isla demanded, her voice low but tense. "Are you following me?"
"Following you?" Adrian echoed, feigning offense. "I have better things to do with my time, believe it or not. But I couldn't help noticing you wandering around looking lost."
"I'm not lost," Isla snapped, pulling her hood lower. "I'm looking for someone."
"Ah, of course," Adrian said, falling into step beside her as though invited. "And would this someone happen to be a certain younger brother of yours? The one who's been making quite the impression down here this morning?"
Isla stopped in her tracks, her eyes narrowing. "What do you know?"
Adrian's smirk widened, and she had to resist the urge to throttle him. "Let's just say I have eyes and ears everywhere. Your brother's been asking questions. Dangerous ones."
"What kind of questions?" Isla demanded, her stomach twisting with dread.
Adrian tilted his head thoughtfully. "Something about a man named Elias. A rather unsavory character, even by lower-city standards. If Thomas went looking for him, well… let's just say he might've bitten off more than he can chew."
"Where is he?" Isla's voice was sharp, her hands clenching into fists. "If you know, tell me. Now."
Adrian studied her for a moment, his dark eyes gleaming with something she couldn't quite place. Then, with a dramatic sigh, he gestured down a narrow alleyway. "Last I heard, Elias was holding court in that direction. But I'd tread carefully if I were you. Elias doesn't take kindly to uninvited guests."
"I don't care," Isla said, already moving toward the alley. "I'm not leaving without my brother."
Adrian fell into step beside her again, his tone annoyingly casual. "You're not seriously planning to go in there alone, are you?"
"If you're offering to help, I'll pass," Isla shot back. "I've had enough of your 'help' for one lifetime."
"Suit yourself," Adrian said with a shrug. "Just don't say I didn't warn you."
She ignored him, her focus on the path ahead. The alley was dark and narrow, the walls on either side closing in like a trap. Isla's heart pounded as she approached a low doorway at the end, the faint sound of voices drifting from within. She pushed the door open, stepping into the dimly lit room beyond.
The stench of stale ale and smoke hit her immediately. Several men were gathered around a table in the center of the room, their laughter cutting off abruptly as they noticed her. One of them—a tall, wiry man with a scar running down his cheek—stood, his hand resting on the hilt of a dagger at his belt.
"Well, well," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "What do we have here?"
"I'm looking for my brother," Isla said, her voice steady despite the fear clawing at her chest. "Thomas Evangeline. He was here earlier."
The man's eyes narrowed, and Isla's stomach sank. "Never heard of him," he said, his tone dismissive. "And this ain't a place for little girls. You'd best be on your way."
"I'm not leaving without him," Isla said firmly, taking a step forward.
The man's expression darkened, and he took a step toward her in turn. "I don't think you understand how things work down here, sweetheart. You don't make demands in Elias's house."
"I don't care who Elias is," Isla shot back, her fear giving way to anger. "If you've hurt my brother—"
The man lunged forward, his hand grabbing her wrist in a vice-like grip. Isla gasped, struggling against him, but his strength was overwhelming.
And then, suddenly, he was pulled back, his grip ripped away. Adrian stood behind him, his movements as fluid as water as he twisted the man's arm and sent him crashing to the ground.
"Now, now," Adrian said, his voice calm but laced with menace. "Is that any way to treat a lady?"
The room erupted into chaos. The other men at the table sprang to their feet, drawing weapons and shouting threats. Isla stumbled back as Adrian moved like a shadow, disarming one man with a flick of his wrist and dodging another's swing with infuriating ease.
"Find your brother!" Adrian shouted over the commotion, his tone sharp and unyielding. "I'll handle this."
Isla hesitated for only a moment before she spotted a door on the far side of the room. She bolted toward it, her heart pounding as she pushed it open to reveal a small, dimly lit storage space. And there, sitting on the floor with his hands tied behind his back and a gag in his mouth, was Thomas.
"Thomas!" Isla dropped to her knees beside him, quickly untying the gag. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"
"I'm fine," Thomas said, his voice hoarse. "But we need to get out of here. Now."
"Agreed," Isla said, working on the knots that held his wrists. "What were you thinking, coming here alone?"
"I was trying to help," Thomas said defensively. "I thought Elias might have information about the letters."
Isla froze, her hands stilling on the ropes. "The letters? Thomas, what are you talking about?"
Before he could answer, the door burst open, and Adrian stumbled inside, his coat torn and his hair disheveled. "As much as I'd love to hear this heartwarming sibling reunion," he said breathlessly, "we need to move. Now."
Isla pulled Thomas to his feet, her mind racing with questions she didn't have time to ask. Together, the three of them bolted from the building, the shouts of Elias's men echoing behind them. They didn't stop running until they were well out of the lower city, the castle gates looming in the distance.
Only then did Isla turn to Adrian, her chest heaving with exertion and anger. "You knew," she said, her voice low and accusing. "You knew Thomas was in danger, and you didn't stop him."
"I didn't know he was going to get himself kidnapped," Adrian shot back, his tone almost incredulous. "I'm not omniscient, Isla."
"No," she said, her eyes narrowing. "But you knew about the letters. And if you're not going to tell me what you know, then I'll find out myself."
Adrian met her gaze, his expression unreadable. "Careful, Isla," he said softly. "You're playing a dangerous game."
"So are you."