Free Island of Fire (The Unwanteds) by lisa Mcmann

furrowed. “Sean and Sigfrrried? Not Clairrre?”
    “She’s . . . ,” Alex said, and shook his head. “She’s gone too.”
    “No,” Simber said, the word turning into a ferocious growl that hurt Alex’s ears. “Who is rrresponsible forrr this?”
    Alex’s face paled. He gazed in the direction of the gate. “The new high priest of Quill. Aaron Stowe.”
    “The new . . . ?” Simber’s jaw opened, but for once he was incapable of finishing. Just as he attempted to repeat Alex’s words a second time, Sky came running up at full speed. She seemed surprised at the size of Simber and planted her feet into the sand to stop her momentum just short of her goal, not wanting to get too close to the beast, as she’d never seen him before. She reached out carefully to grab Alex’s arm, tugging at him and gesturing for him to follow.
    Her expression worried Alex. “Something’s wrong,” Alex said to Simber. “I’ll tell you everything when I get a chance. Come on.” He followed Sky, who had taken off at a run.
    “Indeed,” Simber said, and he loped alongside the two. Several yards before they reached the mansion, Simber stopped. “Something’s shaking,” he said.
    Alex held up. “What? I don’t feel anything.”
    Sky urged Alex onward.
    “Something is shaking,” Simber said again. “The mansion. It’s shaking.” He looked hard at the mansion and then bounded toward it. “Something is terrribly wrrrong inside.”

Behind the Wall
    O nce the first blocks of Quill’s wall near High Priest Aaron’s palace had been removed, the rest of them came down much more easily. Between meetings about how to distribute the extra food items to those who had earned it, and planning sessions where Aaron gave Eva lists upon lists of fairly useless chores to keep her busy and test her loyalty, the new high priest made his way to his office window to watch the progress. All day, the same something niggled at him: Why would Justine have built the wall in the first place if there was nothing to worry about on the other side? Was it simply her way of controlling the peopleof Quill through fear? If so, it didn’t sit quite right with Aaron.
    Toward the end of the day, all the workers but one had begun to slow down, much to Aaron’s distaste. It was distracting to have to keep checking on them only to see most of them taking short breaks to drink water or rest their tired backs. Even more frustrating was the one who worked solidly, for Aaron would have liked to find fault with him especially.
    After one such trip to the window, Aaron had had enough of their slacking. Frowning, he strode out of his office and down to the palace entry, flying out the door with his cloak billowing behind him. There was a strong breeze coming through the opening, which was both delightful and unsettling, for Quill rarely had much more than a tiny hint of wind coming over the walls. Aaron felt so exposed. Putting a hole in the wall alongside the palace—perhaps that was not one of Aaron’s smarter ideas. But look at Artimé, he argued. They’re even more exposed, and nothing ill ever befell them from the outside.
    He approached the men, who began working much harder at the sight of him. “You’re slacking off,” he said to them. “If you continue at that pace, I’ll make you stay past dark.”
    The one who’d been working hard all along put his shoveldown and looked at Aaron. The others who’d noticed did double takes and backed away.
    “I haven’t slowed my pace,” the man said, wiping the sweat from his brow.
    The other workers gaped.
    Aaron’s nostrils flared. “You’ll address me properly, or . . . ,” He couldn’t think of anything, and his face flushed.
    The man nodded solidly, but his voice quavered. “All right. I haven’t slowed my pace, Son , and you know it. I’ve always worked my hardest and taught my children to do that too.” He hesitated, then blindly barreled onward, his voice cracking. “I don’t