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“I heard those cost a thousand silvers,” Clark whispered to me.

“His father can afford it.”

Leif put the key into the gate. As soon as he did, the key disappeared. He opened the gate, stepped inside, and the doors clamped shut behind him like teeth over their prey.

With the show over, people turned back to their merchant stalls, but the air had changed. Sharpened. Filled us with haste. People were already in the maze, searching for the center, while we were stuck out here.

A fire lit within me. “Come on. Let’s get some food then figure out how to enter.” Other rich folk were walking through the gate with their keys—with much less fanfare than Leif—but knowing the son of Vincent had entered the labyrinth made me all the more determined to get inside.

ELEVEN

We found someone who offered baked turkey legs sent twice a season, and each paid for our own. Another would send boiled eggs. Once those were taken care of, I only had three coppers left. My gaze wandered back to the shop selling poisons, but Clark pointed straight ahead.

“Books! Those could give us clues about the inside of the labyrinth.”

I followed his finger to a tent of emerald green with turquoise stripes, where an oil lantern hung from a crooked rod to swing in the wind. The merchant was amiddle-aged man with enough strength to lift half the books in his shop at one time, who sat by the light of his lamp reading a book as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Most avoided his shop, going for the obvious ones like poison or weapons, but Clark lit up as if he’d just discovered a direct tunnel to the heart of the labyrinth.

“That’s perfect. Let’s grab the largest one,” I said.

At my tone, or perhaps the oddity that the words came from my lips, Clark shot me a look.

“So we have kindling,” I finished.

“There it is. Fine, don’t come if you don’t wish. I’m going to look.”

He strode in, while I slipped away. We regrouped five minutes later, him with a skinny tome in his hands, and me with the last of my coppers spent.

“Do I want to know?” he asked, eyeing the heart-shaped glass bottle with an amethyst lid that I tucked away.

“No more than I want to know about the book.”

His mouth tugged into a disapproving line.

I’d acquired a small bag from the merchant, and cinched it shut now. With an axe on my back and a bag at my side, I felt much more prepared for the labyrinth. Even if my purse ran dry. “Relax,” I said when Clark neglected to follow me toward the labyrinth. “I’m not going to use it on you. And it’s not deadly.”

“I’m not sure I believe you.” But his steps started.

I hadn’t lied. The vial wouldn’t kill anyone.

Spray the mist, and whoever it touches will become stone for five minutes. But be wary. The magic is yours now that you’ve paid the price. But this magic is weak. It can only be used twice.

I’d use it wisely. Five minutes might not be a lot, but it could win me the game.

A bell rang out over the island. We swung to see the lighthouse, sitting sentinel upon the cliffs of the island, doubling as a clocktower. Everyone watched in silence as it struck twelve times, then a commanding voice rumbled over the rocky island. “Today is the final day of admission. All those not inside the labyrinth by sundown will not be allowed in.”

As his words ended, the stillness of the island broke. The sun was still hours away from rising, let alone setting, but almost everyone in the market finished their exchanges and ran toward the tall, labyrinth walls.

Clark and I exchanged a look, then broke into a run.

We went to the gate first. Others were already there, trying to pry the doors open. The black iron refused to move. The hinges didn’t so much as squeak. I shifted my weight from foot to foot, torn between throwing myself at the thorny walls and staying back to think it out. Clark was a steady sea beside me, while I was the ever-changing tide. I leaned closer to him, trying to siphon some of his calmness to use against my beating heart.

It didn’t work. Standing this close to the Quarter Labyrinth made my heart like a hammer against my ribs.

Around us, everything threw themselves toward the gate. The sidebars clung to the edges of the maze too tightly for any to slide through its cracks, though many pried at the tangles of the hedge anyway, as if making their fingers bleed could earn them entrance.

“Perhaps there’s a puzzle somewhere on the gate.” I took in the black bars welded into the shape of wings. “Or a passcode we must whisper, or an offering we must give.”

Clark looked not only at the gate, but also toward everything around us. “There’s got to be a clue somewhere on how to enter. How did Seaweeds get into the other laybrinths?”