I took the parchment and opened it, reading the hurried, slanting script. It was a message from Ezra.
Leith Tavern, after the bell.
I looked out the window. The sun had passed the center of the sky and it would set in a few hours. Holland would be expecting me at Wolfe & Engel, so we’d have to be quick if we were going to meet Ezra. “All right. Let’s go.”
West tucked the message back into his vest and grabbed his jacket from the hook, following me out onto the deck. When I came down the ladder, Willa was already working on the repairs, suspended beside the hull from the starboard side. She fit the oakum into an opening along the smaller cracks, pounding it in with the blunt end of her adze.
“We’ll be back after sundown,” West said, jumping down onto the dock beside me.
“Last time you said that you didn’t show for two days,” she muttered, pulling another nail from her bag.
Whatever she wasn’t saying was alight in her eyes. She’d been granted her freedom from the Marigold, but she didn’t like the idea of me working for Holland. Soon we would each take our own paths, and I didn’t know if they would ever come back together again.
We took the main street that led back into Sagsay Holm, finding the tea house at the top of the hill in the eastern part of the village. It looked out over the water, with a view of the rocky coast.
The sign was painted in a glistening gold, hanging out over the street in an ornate, scrolled frame.
WOLFE & ENGEL
I swallowed, the knot in my stomach resurfacing. The windows reflected the buildings behind us, and I was suddenly aware of how out of place I looked among them. Windblown and sun-kissed. Tired.
Beside me, West was the same. He said nothing and I, too, was at a loss for words. By the time I left the tea house, I’d be contracted with Holland, and I had no way of knowing if the Roths would save me.
“I’m going to do this alone,” I said. The last thing I needed was West making himself even more of an enemy to Holland. I felt like I was holding my breath, waiting for the stillness around him to rupture.
To my surprise, he didn’t argue. He looked over me, through the window. “I’ll wait.”
“All right.”
West’s face was still stoic as he watched me take hold of the brass handle and open the door. The scent of bergamot and lavender came rushing out, swirling around me as my eyes adjusted to the low light.
Wood-framed booths covered in red velvet lined the wall, the expanse of the room filled with gold tables. Delicate crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, fit with candles that gave everything the look of a dream.
It was no accident Holland wanted to meet me here, somewhere extravagant and luxurious, like Azimuth House. It was exactly like the kind of place she could have things on her terms, like always.
“Fable?” A man stopped before me, his eyes raking over my clothes.
“Yes?” I answered suspiciously.
He looked disappointed. “This way.”
I looked back to the window, but West was gone, the darkening street empty. I followed the man to the back of the tea house, where a thick damask curtain was drawn over a private booth. He pulled it back and Holland looked up, her silver hair pinned in beautiful, smooth curls that spiraled away from her face like gentle waves.
“Your guest, madam.” The man bowed his head a little, not meeting Holland’s eyes.
“Thank you.” The same disapproval hung in her expression as she looked me over. “Didn’t bother to clean the sea off of you, I see.”
I slid into the booth across the table from her, trying to be careful with the velvet. I didn’t like this. I didn’t like what she was doing by bringing me here, and I hated that I felt small. I set my elbows onto the table, leaning toward her, and she grimaced at the sight.
The server reappeared with a tray set with two decadent cups. Their rims were studded with blue diamonds and inside, a clear liquid made the silver look like it was melted. The man gave another bow before he disappeared.
Holland waited for the curtain to close before she picked up one of the cups, gesturing for me to do the same. I hesitated before I lifted it from the tray.
“A toast.” Her cup drifted toward mine.
I tapped the rim of my glass to hers. “To what?”
But she looked at me ruefully, as if I were trying to be funny. “To our partnership.”
“Partnership suggests equal power,” I said, watching her take a drink. Her lips puckered as she swallowed, setting the cup back down gingerly.
I took a sip, swallowing hard when the burn of it lit in my mouth. It was disgusting.
“Tomorrow.” She changed the subject and I was grateful we weren’t bothering with pleasantries. She was my grandmother, but I wasn’t a fool. I’d worked my way beneath her thumb the same way West had with Saint. If a single thing went wrong at the Trade Council meeting and she discovered what I’d been up to, the entire crew would find the same end that Zola did. Their bodies would be dumped in the harbor and the Marigold would be taken apart or sailing under Holland’s crest.
“Everything’s in order,” she began, folding her ringed fingers together in front of her. “The Council will open the floor for trading business and I’ll make the proposal, introducing you as the head of my new trade route in the Narrows.”
“What makes you think they’ll vote in your favor?”
She almost laughed. “Fable, I’m not a fool. The Trade Council hates me. Both of them. They need my coin to keep trade moving, but they’ve drawn very clear boundaries to keep me from controlling their business. You’re Narrows-born, you’re a skilled dredger, and you know how to crew.” She took another sip from her glass. “You’re a gem sage.”
I set my glass down a little too hard. “You’re going to tell them I’m a gem sage?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
My gaze sharpened on her, trying to read the open, honest look in her eye. “Because it’s dangerous.”
There was a reason gem sages were almost unheard of now. The days of gem merchants pursuing the title were long over because no one wanted to hold that much value, not when traders and merchants would do anything to control it.
“I’m not a gem sage. I never finished my apprenticeship.”
She waved a hand, dismissing me. “Those are exactly the kinds of details they don’t need to know.”
I leaned back into the booth, shaking my head. Maybe that was another reason Isolde had left Bastian. If I had to bet on it, I’d say Holland had tried to use my mother, too.
“Now, it’s important that you act as if you know how to behave if we are going to make the right impression,” she continued. “There’s no way to pass you off as if you actually belong, but my guess is that will probably work in our favor.”
There were those words again. We. Our.
“You will not speak unless spoken to. You will let me answer the Trade Council’s questions. You will look the part.” Again, she glared at my clothes. “I’ll have a dressmaker come fit you for something tonight.”
I stared at her. “What if they don’t grant you the license?”
“They will,” she said defensively. “With Zola and Saint out of the water, the Narrows will be hard-pressed to raise up another trade operation that can expand its route to the Unnamed Sea. If you’re running the trade, everyone wins.”
Except Saint. Except me.
I tried to relax, pulling in a slow breath as I picked the silver cup back up and took another sip. Holland had set up her hand well. With Zola gone, every crew in the Narrows would be casting their bids to compete with Saint for what little power was left. But if Holland got her license, she’d be holding it all by the time the sun set tomorrow.
“Let’s get this over with,” I said.
“Get what over with?”
“The contract.”
Holland touched her fingertips together before she picked up a leather-bound satchel from the seat beside her and opened
it. I watched her sort through the parchments before she found the one she was looking for—an unmarked envelope. She set it onto the table before me.
I breathed, willing my heartbeat to calm. Once I signed it, there was no going back. My fate would lie in Henrik’s hands. I lifted a hand from my lap and picked it up, opening the flap of the envelope and pulling the parchment free. My stomach plummeted as I opened it before me.
My eyes ran over the black ink again and again.
Ship Deed
The Marigold’s name was listed below.
“What is this?” I stammered.
“It’s the deed to the ship. As promised,” she answered, closing the satchel.
“I haven’t signed the contract yet.”
“Oh, it’s been paid for.” Holland smiled. “I had the changes he requested made at the trade office. Everything should be in order.”
“What?” I held the deed to the candlelight, reading over the print anxiously.
Transfer of ownership:
I sucked in a breath, my mouth dropping open when I saw my name. It was written in the same script as the rest of the document. “What did you do?” I panted. The deed shook in my hands.
Cold realization filled my skull, making my head ache as I put it together. “West.”
West signed the two-year contract with Holland.
“The terms of our agreement have changed,” Holland said. “West signed the contract in exchange for the Marigold.” She pulled another parchment from inside her satchel. “But I have a new offer for you.”
I stared at the document. It was another contract.
“You still want to save your father? This is your chance.” Holland beamed with pleasure.
We’d walked right into her trap not once, but twice. When West signed Holland’s contract, he thought he was saving me. But Holland had gotten two for the price of one. And she knew it. She had no doubt that I’d sign it.
I picked up the quill and dragged it over the parchment. My name looked up at me, shining in wet ink.
I slid out of the booth, throwing back the curtain with the deed clutched in my fist. Heat pricked beneath my skin as I stalked through the tea house, headed for the dark window. I threw the door open and stepped out, searching the street for him.
West stood across the path, leaning against the wall of the next building.
“What did you do?” My voice grated as I crossed the cobblestones toward him.
He stood, his hands coming out of his pockets as I stopped before him, seething. “Fable…”
I shoved the crumpled deed into his chest. “Why is my name on this?”
West stared at the envelope.
“Is that what was going on with Paj and Hamish earlier? Everyone knew about this but me?”
“Willa and Auster don’t know.”
“You’re just abandoning the Marigold? You’re just going to leave?” I snapped.
“I’m doing the same thing you were going to do. Two years with Holland, then back to the Narrows.”
I was so angry that I could feel it in my blood. “You’re the helmsman, West. It’s not the same.”
West looked as if he was measuring his words. “Paj is going to take over as helmsman.”
“What?” I was shouting now, and the people on the street were stopping to stare. I didn’t care.
“The crew will set up trade just the way we said. It’ll be waiting for me when I get back to the Narrows.”
I wanted to scream. I wanted to hit him. “Why is my name on the deed?”
West sighed, exasperated. “I don’t want it in my name if…” He didn’t finish.
“If what?” I leveled my eyes at him.
“If something happens to me and the ship is in my name, ownership would fall to the Trade Council until the crew could pay to have the ownership transferred. If you own it, that won’t happen.”
Tears burned behind my eyes until the sight of him wavered. “So you’re just going to go work for Holland. Do whatever she tells you.”
“I’ll do what I have to do.” He gave me the words I’d made him promise the night before.
“That’s not what I meant. You know that’s not what I meant.”
He had no reply to that.
“How could you do this?” I said hoarsely.
I started walking, but West’s heavy footsteps echoed behind me. He caught my arm, pulling me back. “I’m not going back to the Narrows without you.”
I could see that he wasn’t going to concede. And he couldn’t now, anyway. He’d signed the contract. But West was already haunted. His soul was dark. And I didn’t want to know who he would be if he spent two more years doing someone else’s dirty work.
I could feel it. If I lost to Holland at the Trade Council meeting, I would lose West.
“You won’t have to. Neither will I,” I said, a tear falling down my cheek.
“What?”
“I signed one, too.”
“Why? How?”
“For Saint.” I stared at him. “Now we all get what we want. You, me. Holland.” I almost laughed at how ridiculous it all was.
West let out a heavy breath, looking past me. His mind was reeling. Looking for a way out.
“You can’t keep trying to take control of everything. You can’t save everyone, West.”
But he didn’t know how to stay out of it.
I shook my head, starting down the hill without him.
Now it wasn’t just my fate in Henrik’s hands. It was West’s, too.
THIRTY-SIX
Leith Tavern sat at the end of Linden Street, bustling with people coming and going from the merchant’s house before the closing bell rang out over the village.
West kept watch while I looked through the window, searching for a head of dark, shorn hair. The worst thing that could happen was Holland finding out we were meeting with one of the Roths. If she did, we’d all find ourselves sunk in the harbor, blood or no blood.
If the Roths made good on the deal, it would destroy Holland’s operation in Bastian. It wasn’t only the Narrows-based traders who stood to benefit. Holland controlled more than the gem trade with her wealth, leaning on the guilds for whatever she needed because she was the only one with the power to return those kinds of favors. But she was also likely the main source of revenue for the Roths, and they stood to lose if she fell from her throne.
I could only hope that what they could gain would outweigh what they could lose.
“He’ll show,” West said, watching the way I fidgeted with the button on my jacket.
“I know,” I said coldly. But I wasn’t sure of anything, especially after what Saint had said about there being a fifty-fifty chance. His words gave me the same sinking feeling I had when sailing straight into a storm. I didn’t know if we were coming out the other side.
“Fable.” West waited for me to tear my eyes from the window and look at him.
But all I could think about was his name on Holland’s contract. How I hadn’t even seen it coming. West hadn’t just kept me in the dark. He’d played me. “Don’t,” I said, going back to the window.
The tables and booths inside were filled with people. I pressed my hand to the glass, searching for Ezra again.
West tugged on the sleeve of my jacket, his gaze pinned to the end of the alley, where four or five figures stood in the shadows.
“It’s him,” West said lowly.
I followed the wall of the tavern until I could make him out. Ezra watched me from beneath the hood of his jacket, his scarred hands the only bit of him visible. When I stopped before him, the others stepped out of the dark, lining up at his sides. Three other young men and one girl, none of their faces ones I recognized. The young boy Henrik had called Tru was with them, too. He was dressed in a fine jacket with a gold watch chain tucked into its pocket.
The man beside Ezra stepped into the light, revealing combed chestnut hair over a youthful face. He looked me up and down. The Roth tattoo peeked out
from beneath his rolled shirt sleeve.
“Do you have it?” Ezra didn’t waste any time.
I pulled my hand from my jacket pocket, holding it before him so he could see the gem merchant’s ring on my middle finger.
He shook his head, half-laughing. “How the hell did you get that?”
“Does it matter?”
The brown-haired young man smirked. “I told Henrik there’s no way you’d come through.” He stepped forward, extending a hand. “Murrow. You must be Fable.”
I stared at it, not moving, and he dropped it to his side.
“That makes me wonder if you held up your end of the deal,” I said, trying to read his face.
But behind him, Ezra was expressionless, his features smooth. “I did. But I covered my bases.” A group of men came out of the tavern’s side door, and Ezra watched them from the corner of his eye.
I slipped the ring from my finger and dropped it into his palm. He immediately pulled a monocle from his jacket and fit it to his eye, shifting away from me so that he could check the gem set into the ring. When he was satisfied, he dropped it into his pocket.
“I kept my end of the deal. Now it’s your turn,” I said, my voice hardening. “How do I know you’ll do what you promised?”
Murrow grinned, a spark lighting his eyes. “Guess you’ll have to trust us.”
West moved beside me, and before I even realized what had happened, he had his hands around Tru’s throat, dragging him toward us.
“West!”
Ezra and Murrow already had their knives drawn. Ezra lunged forward and froze when West pressed the tip of his knife to Tru’s throat. The boy’s eyes were wide, his face draining of its color.
“What are you doing?” I rasped.
I set my hand on West’s arm. Despite his cool exterior, I could feel the heavy pulse under his skin. I wanted to believe that it was a bluff. That he wouldn’t hurt a child. But looking into his eyes now, I wasn’t sure. This was the West my father had hired. The one he’d relied on.
“Here’s the problem.” West’s face was smooth. Tru thrashed in his arms, his scream muffled by West’s hand over his mouth. “I don’t trust you.”
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