Chapter 39 #2
Isla shrugged. “Anything but whiskey, honestly. I’m not picky.”
The four of them headed to the closest bar, a shack styled with the vibrancy of someplace tropical, its drinks served with what appeared to be miniature palm fronds.
Isla squeezed herself onto one of the mahogany stools that had just been freed while Jax shifted to get the bartender’s attention to order drinks.
Her eyes greedily gulped down all that lay around her, partly as a warrior’s assessment.
People surrounding her ate and drank, flirted, and played cards or dice.
The smoke flitting by her nose from a man’s pipe smelled sweet, addictive even, enough so that she’d elected not to inhale too deeply.
As Isla noticed couples walking hand in hand—some engaged even more closely—she decided to reach inside herself, find a thread, and give it a small, loving tug. She tilted her head to observe the moon, the Goddess watching above. Hopefully, he and the pup were okay.
When Isla turned to rest her back against the bar, she found Ameera a few yards away, catching a server and likely placing an order for food. Amalie had vanished entirely. Isla didn’t blame her.
“Excuse me?”
Isla’s gaze shifted as a petite woman with cropped ebony hair sidled up beside her. Her heart jumped into her throat. Did she know who she was?
She was around Davina’s size, so Isla had several inches on the woman and extensive levels of training. Though looks could be deceiving. The blade she kept hidden under her jacket bit at her side.
Isla gave the woman a polite smile. No one else seemed to pay them any mind. Jax and Ameera hadn’t noticed either. “Yes?”
From a stack in her hands that she’d kept tucked so close that Isla nearly missed them, she handed Isla a flyer. “If you don’t have plans for later in the night, I think you might enjoy the show.”
Isla peered down, examining its bold-colored surface, an epic splash of red hues. She held it back to view the clearer image of a man’s face partially shielded by his tipped hat. Printed in white across its surface was a calling card: "Silver the Magnificent."
Isla furrowed her brows. “A magic show?”
Funny. Magic was entertainment as long as it wasn’t real.
“I’d say so. There’s certainly magic in Silver’s words. The show is inspiring. I think you’ll leave with a fresh perspective.”
Isla’s gaze dropped back to the paper. “Uh, thank you. I’ll see if we have time to…” When she looked back up, she was gone.
“Who was that?”
Isla whipped around to Jax, who held two palm-frond-decorated drinks. The scent of coconut wafted up to her, though she wasn’t sure how they’d settle in this nervous pit forming in her stomach.
Isla flashed him the front of the flyer. “Some woman just gave me this for the magic show tonight.”
“Magic show?” Jax leaned over. Isla watched the slight widening of his eyes, though it vanished quickly. “Oh, that?” He left her glass on the bar behind her. When she turned to reach for it, she felt the paper being smoothly eased from her grip, realizing it too late. “You don’t need that.”
Isla’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Why not?"
Fear flashed over Jax’s face as if he’d just remembered who she was. He’d torn it away from a queen. “The show’s not that great, trust me. There are many more entertaining things to do, and we’ll probably be gone anyway.”
“It’s only in a couple of hours.”
“We have the breakfast early in the morning.” He crumbled the pamphlet in his hands before gesturing out to the crowd. “Come on. There’s much more of the island to see.”
For now, Isla decided she’d give in.
She’d already formulated a plan.
“Let’s wait for Ameera,” she said, gentler, allowing Jax to let his guard down. While he moved back a few steps to throw the pamphlet away, Isla shrugged off her jacket and hung it beneath the bar.
She could’ve sworn she heard Kai’s voice in her head, his laugh tiptoeing down her spine. You can never let anything go, can you?
No, she couldn’t.
Eventually, Ameera showed up with their food, a dish of chicken skewers slathered in a dark, sweet sticky sauce that smelled as divine as they tasted, and they set off.
Isla allowed them to drift a good distance away with a fair amount of weaving before she let out an aggravated huff. “Ugh, Goddess, I left my jacket by the bar.”
Jax swore, running his eyes over her body as if it would appear. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it.”
Isla put her hands up. “No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.” She ducked away before he could follow.
Her jacket had thankfully still been beneath the bar when she approached. She excused herself as she slid a hand past the man who’d taken her seat and retrieved it, before going to the trash.
It had only been about ten minutes, and it seemed just as filled as it had been, but the crumpled flyer was gone. She’d watched him throw it in there, right?
“Looking for something?”
Isla whipped around, shocked to find Amalie, her arms folded with the leaflet ball in her hand. Had she been watching them from wherever she’d disappeared earlier?
Isla flashed her a befuddled look. “You dug in the trash?”
Amalie tossed the paper at her. Isla caught it smoothly. “If you want to go, I’ll take you,” she said.
Suddenly, going didn’t seem like a good idea at all.
Isla unfurled the paper, reading over the creased surface. What could be so bad about this? “Why?”
Amalie’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “We brought you here for a good time, didn’t we?” She took a step closer to Isla, lowering her voice, “But you’ll have to leave your guard dogs behind.”
A couple of hours later, Isla had left her “guard dogs,” but not far behind. Ameera, though hesitant, had been willing enough to go along with her plan.
Isla subtly kept a hand on her blade as she followed Amalie to the western end of the island, away from some of the main attractions and writhing crowds.
The alpha’s niece had thrown the hood of her cloak over her head, clearly wanting to remain hidden.
Isla, wanting to follow suit, had quickly purchased a straw hat from the nearest vendor.
Not the most fashionable, but it would do.
She’d braided her hair and tucked it into the back of her jacket.
Her heart thundered in the growing silence as they approached a row of white-and-midnight-blue striped tents for shows and performers. They didn’t go inside any of them, but went around. There had been one more set further behind them that all appeared blood-red in the darkness of the night.
A burly man stood at the tent flaps, his sharp eyes scanning flyers and allowing people inside.
Shit. Were those supposed to be a ticket?
“I don’t have the flyer,” Isla muttered to Amalie as they closed in on the tent’s entrance.
Her sapphire eyes narrowed, but then Amalie sighed. “It’s fine. I’ll take care of it.”
Isla clenched and released her fists.
When they reached the entrance, the man’s expectant eyes had fallen on Isla first. She appeared like nothing but a disturbance, it seemed. He glanced at her hands and saw nothing, his features tightening.
“She’s with me.”
He shifted his gaze to Amalie, who’d dropped her hood, his face barely softening as he nodded and stepped back.
So, they knew her here.
Isla sucked in a breath before she dove beneath the tent flaps into uncharted waters.
For a magic show, everything seemed a bit… morose.
Rows of seating had been set up, all facing a long but narrow stage fitted with one singular microphone and some speakers.
Amalie nodded towards the back at some empty seats, slightly separated from the rest of the crowd.
Swallowing and fighting an innate urge to flee, Isla followed, eyes trailing over the people they passed on the way. Some of them, she noticed, wore similar dark uniforms, and for every person who seemed excited about a magic show, there had been someone else who was like stone. Her stomach turned.
They sat just as grating feedback ripped from speakers. The uniformed attendees began a rhythmic stomping—an introduction, a greeting.
What the hell was this?
Howls from people, not wolves, rang through the tent, and Isla snapped her attention forward as a man—unnaturally handsome, tall, and broad-shouldered—powered onto the stage.
He wore a dark uniform, just as the others, though his had been pinned with the gleaming symbol of a moon and sword.
Not quite the warrior insignia, something just a little more brutal.
Silver.
“Brothers and sisters,” he began, his voice authoritative and robust yet charming somehow. The crowd quieted. “Thank you for being here today. Thank you for your support while we stand to make history. While we stand to bring down a regime that has stood for far too long.”
Oh, Goddess. Oh, Goddess.
“Pay attention, Luna of Deimos,” Amalie whispered, the title dripping with silent venom as a lethal smile crossed her lips.
Luna of Deimos… Daughter of Io.
Isla’s body went cold, her spine became steel, and her fingers itched for her blade. To protect herself.
She didn’t need to ask Verena about the rebellions. Amalie had brought her right to one of their secret gatherings.