Daughter.
FORTY
The sea looked different that morning.
I stood at the end of the street, looking out over the harbor of Sagsay Holm. It was still dark, but I could see the dance of blue shifting on the waves.
The Seadragon was missing from the docks. A man on a sling hung over the side of another ship, scraping Holland’s crest from its hull. As the news reached the other ports of the Unnamed Sea, it would disappear. As if all those years and gems and ships had never existed. But there would be a vacuum left behind when Holland was gone. One that would have far-reaching consequences.
The silhouette of a long coat appeared on the cobblestones beside my shadow. I watched it move in the wind for a moment before I turned to look at him.
Saint was clean-shaven, his blue eyes bright over high cheekbones. “Tea?”
I smiled. “Sure.”
We walked shoulder to shoulder down the middle of the street, our boots hitting the cobblestones in a synchronized rhythm. I’d never walked with him like that. Never stood beside him or talked to him anywhere except on the Lark or in his post. People watched us as we passed, and I wondered if they could see him in me or me in him. If there was some visible echo between us that told people who we were. It felt strange. It felt good.
For the first time in my life I wasn’t hiding, and neither was he.
He stopped beneath the swinging sign of a tavern and opened the door before we both ducked inside.
The barkeep stood up from the stool where he was writing in the ledgers and tightened the straps of his apron. “Morning.”
“Morning,” Saint echoed, helping himself to a small table before the largest window. It looked out over the street, just the way he liked. “Pot of tea, please.”
I took the seat beside him, unbuttoning my jacket and setting my elbows onto the table. He said nothing, watching out the window with squinted eyes as the gold light swelled behind the glass. He wasn’t the awkward knot of tension that he’d always been.
When the barkeep set down a plate of toast, Saint picked up a knife and carefully spread it with butter.
It was an easy silence. A comfortable one. All the questions I ever wanted to ask him swirled in my head, spinning so fast that I could hardly untangle them from one another. But they never found their way to my tongue. Suddenly, it seemed, I didn’t need to ask them. Suddenly, none of it mattered.
A blue porcelain teapot landed between us and the barkeep set down two cups and saucers, taking care to straighten them so they lined up neatly. When he was satisfied, he left us with a dutiful nod.
I picked up the pot and filled Saint’s cup first. The steam from the black tea curled up before him. He was most familiar that way, concealed behind some kind of veil. Never fully in focus.
“I was afraid yesterday that you wouldn’t show.” I slid the saucer toward him.
He picked up the spoon beside his plate and stirred his tea slowly. “Did you really think I wouldn’t?”
“No,” I answered as I realized it.
Some part of me had known he’d come. And I wasn’t sure why, because I had no reason to trust him.
In my entire life, Saint had never told me that he loved me. He’d fed me, clothed me, and given me a home, but there were limits to how much of him belonged to me. Still, even in those years on Jeval, there was some cord that tied me to my father. That made me feel like he was mine. And that’s what I’d held onto in those minutes, watching the doors of the pier and waiting for him to walk through them.
“It took some doing, getting the logs from the harbor master,” he said as an explanation.
I remembered the streak of blood on his throat. “How’d you get it?”
“You really want to know?”
I leaned back into my chair. “Not really.”
He was quiet as he sipped his tea. The cup looked so small in his hand, the blue paint catching the light and flashing along the rim. He reached into his pocket before he set a folded parchment onto the table. “Your license.”
I stared at it for a moment, half-afraid to touch it. As if it would vanish the moment I read the words. Again, the urge to cry coiled tight in my throat.
“That night.” His voice pierced the silence, but he didn’t look up at me. “I’m not sure how I lost her.”
I straightened and the cup shook in my hand. I set it down.
“She was there one moment, and then…” He breathed. “A squall came over the ship and Isolde was just gone.”
I didn’t miss that he said her name. I didn’t miss the way it sounded on his voice. Like prayer. It threaded through my heart, the stitches pulling tight.
“I didn’t leave you on Jeval because I don’t love you.”
“Saint.” I tried to stop him.
But he ignored me. “I left you there because—”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does.” He looked up then, the blue in his eyes rimmed in red. “I left you there because I have never loved anything in my life like I love you. Not Isolde. Not the trade. Nothing.”
The words seared, filling the tavern and wrapping around me so tight I couldn’t draw breath. They crushed me until I was taking some strange unrecognizable shape.
“I didn’t plan to be a father. I didn’t want to be one. But the first time I held you in my hands, you were so small. I had never been so terrified of anything in my life. I feel like I’ve barely slept since the night you were born.”
I caught a tear at my chin.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I nodded, unable to make a sound. His hand unfolded on the table between us, reaching for me, but I didn’t take it. Instead, I wrapped my arms around myself tightly, leaning into him. I pressed my face into his coat like I did when I was little and his arms folded around me. I closed my eyes and the slide of hot tears fell down my cheeks. For him. For me. For Isolde.
There was no way to undo it. No amount of coin or power could turn time back to that night in Tempest Snare, or the day Isolde showed up, asking for a place on Saint’s crew. It was one long series of tragically beautiful knots that bound us together.
And the most heartbreaking of all was that somehow, after everything, by some stroke of darkness, I was still proud to be Saint’s daughter.
His chest rose and fell, his arm tightening around me before he let go. I wiped at my face, sniffing, as he reached into his pocket.
The shine of a silver chain sparkled in his fingers. My mother’s necklace.
“She would have wanted you to have it,” he said, his voice uneven.
I picked it up by the chain, letting the pendant fall into my hand. The green abalone sea dragon caught the light, turning into waves of blue and purple. I could feel her in it. The ghost of my mother filled the air.
“Are you sure?” I whispered.
“I’m sure.”
I closed my hand around it, and the resonant hum wrapped around me.
The harbor bell rang out as I dropped it into my pocket. “Time to go,” I said hoarsely. The crew would be waiting.
Saint poured another cup of tea. “You headed to Ceros?”
I nodded, standing. A smile found my lips. “See you there?”
He picked up the cup, staring into the tea. “See you there.”
I pushed through the door, pulling the collar of my jacket up against the cold morning. The village was already busy, the street filled with carts and open shop windows. I set my gaze on the water and walked, heading for the harbor.
When the reflection of violet skipped across the glass beside me, I stopped mid-stride, my gaze drawn across the street. Holland stood in the arched doorway of Wolfe & Engel, her sharp eyes on me. The white fur collar of her jacket blew in the wind, touching her jaw, the brilliant jewels hanging from her ears peeking out from beneath her hair.
She was still glamourous. Beautiful. Even if she’d lost her ring and her license, she still had her coin. She’d never want
for anything, and something told me she’d find a way to get back her own bit of power in Bastian. Either way, she’d never have a stake in the Narrows.
She was as still as stone, unblinking, before she stepped inside.
When she looked over her shoulder, disappearing into the shop, I could have sworn I saw her smile.
FORTY-ONE
Sagsay Holm disappeared like the fog-cloaked memory of a dream.
I stood at the top of the foremast, tying off the lines as the wind filled the sails. They stretched against the blue sky in round arcs, the sound of the salty breeze on the canvas making me close my eyes. I pulled the air into my lungs and leaned into the mast, thinking I never wanted to leave this ship for as long as I lived.
When I looked down, West was standing on the deck, watching me. He was swallowed in gold, squinting against the light, and the wind tugged the shirt around his form in a way that made me want to disappear into his candlelit cabin with him.
I climbed down, landing on the hot deck with bare feet.
“You want to check them?” he asked, rolling up his sleeves.
“Yeah.”
He caught my hand when I stepped around him, drawing me back. As soon as I turned, he kissed me. One of his arms wrapped around my waist, and I leaned into him until he let me go. His fingers slipped from mine as I headed to the breezeway and I ducked into his cabin, where Hamish was sitting at West’s desk, two ledgers open before him.
He looked up at me over the top of his spectacles. “Got you set up over here.”
He nodded to the gem lamp on the table. Beside it, a small chest of gems was waiting.
With the fallout of Holland’s supposed treachery, every merchant from the Narrows to the Unnamed Sea would tighten their operations, double- and triple-checking the stones they sold to keep their necks from the blade of the Trade Council.
I sat down onto the stool, striking a match and lighting the candle beneath the lens. When it was aglow, I took the first gem between my fingers, an aquamarine. I held it up so the light showed through, checking the color the way my mother taught me. Then I set it onto the gem lamp’s glass and peered through the lens, noting the structure of the gem. When I was finished, I set it aside and picked up another.
Everything has a language. A message.
It was the first thing my mother taught me when I became her apprentice. But the first time I’d understood what she meant was when I realized that even she had song. It was the feeling I had anytime she was near.
It was there in the dark as she leaned over me in the hammock to press her lips to my forehead. I could feel her, even when I could only make out the flicker of lantern light on her necklace as it dangled over me.
It was something I knew in my bones.
Isolde.
I looked over my shoulder to where the sea dragon pendant hung from a nail beside the bed, swaying with the rock of the ship. I got back to my feet and crossed the cabin, taking it from the hook and holding it before me.
The same feeling had found me as I stood in Saint’s post in The Pinch, my mother’s spirit calling to me through the necklace from where it sat on the shelf. I’d felt it again diving the skerry, where bits of her seemed to emanate through the blue waters.
I wiped at the face of the abalone with my thumb, watching the violet hues ripple beneath the green waves. The thrumming was so clear, radiating into my palm. As if somehow, Isolde still existed within it. As if—
My breath stopped suddenly, the slightest tremor finding my hand until the silver chain slipped through my fingers.
Hamish set down his quill. “What is it?”
“What if it wasn’t her?” I whispered, words frayed.
“What?”
“What if it wasn’t her I felt at the skerry?” I looked up at him, but he was confused.
I held the pendant in the light coming through the window, studying the silversmithing carefully. Not a single waver caught along the bevel, the details of the sea dragon perfect. I turned it over.
My mouth dropped open when I saw it. The Roth emblem. It was pressed into the smooth surface. It was tiny, but it was there—something I wouldn’t have ever recognized if I hadn’t seen it in Bastian.
It was no accident that Saint had it made in Bastian. It was no coincidence that it had been made by the Roths. And it wasn’t sentiment that made him go back to the Lark to find it.
I opened the drawer of West’s desk and rifled through its contents until I found a knife. I sank down to the floor, setting the pendant before me. When I lifted the blade into the air, Hamish reached for me. “Fable—”
I brought it down with a snap, driving the handle of the blade into the face of the pendant. The abalone cracked, and with another hit, it shattered into pieces.
The knife slipped from my fingertips as I pressed my hand to my mouth, my eyes going wide.
The glistening, smooth face of black peeked out at us from beneath the broken shell. Even in the dim light, I could see the sparkle of violet swirling beneath it.
“What the…” Hamish gasped, taking a step back.
That feeling that wrapped around me every time I was near my mother wasn’t Isolde. It was the necklace. The one she never took off.
Saint didn’t know where to find the midnight, but he knew how to find it. That’s why he’d given it to me. It was a clue that only a gem sage would understand.
It wasn’t my mother I’d felt at the skerry. It was midnight.
FORTY-TWO
Fable’s Skerry was like a giant sleeping in the dark.
The outline of the rock islet was barely visible against the night sky as we dropped anchor.
I could feel it, standing at the bow of the ship with the sea wind whipping around me. Fable’s Skerry didn’t have reefs to dredge, but the midnight was here. It had to be.
Maybe it was an accident that Isolde had found it in the first place. Or maybe she’d followed the gemstone’s song like a moth to flame.
I wondered how long it had taken her to realize what she’d done. What the stone was worth. How long it had taken her to decide to betray her own mother.
Saint gave me the necklace because it was a key. If I had midnight, if I knew what it felt like, then I could find it. I knew the song of the gem like I knew the rhythm of my own heartbeat. I could probably find it with my eyes closed.
West pushed my belt into my hands before he fitted his around him. I worked the buckle with quick fingers, not even bothering to check my tools. Every inch of my skin was jumping, the tingle of gooseflesh creeping up my arms.
Willa leaned over the side, looking down into the dark water. “You really think it’s down there?”
“I know it is.” I smiled.
West climbed up onto the railing, and I followed. I didn’t wait. As soon as I was standing beside him, we both jumped. The black swallowed us whole and West’s warm hand found me in the water as I kicked back up to the surface. The Marigold towered over us, the skerry at our backs.
I measured the height of it in the distance. “There.” I pointed to the higher rise of rock. “There’s a cavern near the tip of the ridge.”
West eyed it, unsure. He was probably thinking the same thing I was. That if we dove the cavern, there was no way to know where it opened or even if it opened. But Isolde had done it, so there had to be a way.
“Line!” West called up to the Marigold, and a coil of rope landed in the water a second later.
West fit it over one shoulder so it reached across his chest and back. When he started to work his lungs, I followed, pulling full breaths in and out.
In and out. In and out.
The tightness in my chest loosened with each one until my lungs felt flexible enough to hold the air I needed. I sealed my lips and nodded to West before I plunged beneath the water and kicked. The rope made him sink faster, and I swam after him, keeping my pace slow so that I didn’t tire too quickly.
Moonlight cascaded in beams through the water, lig
hting West in flashes below me as we descended. The cavern opened up before us, a huge black hole in the face of the rock. The sound of the gems radiated through the water so loud that I could feel it in my teeth. All this time, it was here. A stone’s throw from Bastian.
West took the rope from around him and handed me the end. I fit it behind a boulder, wrenching it back and forth until it was wedged so tight a firm tug couldn’t budge it. West tied the length of it around his waist, knotting it before giving me the end, and I did the same.
I squeezed his wrist when I was ready and kicked off toward the wide mouth of the cavern. As soon as we slipped inside, the darkness turned the water into ink. So black that I couldn’t even see my hands as I swam with them out before me.
The farther we went, the colder the water became. I let a few bubbles of air escape my nose and kept kicking, squinting my eyes to see, but there was no trace of light ahead.
Something sharp caught my forehead and I reached up, realizing I had hit the top of the rock. The passage was narrowing. I let go of a little more air to let myself sink and pushed away from it just as the soft burn lit in my chest. I swallowed instinctively, but the motion only fooled me into thinking I was breathing for a second and the ache reignited. When I looked back, I couldn’t see West, but his weight still pulled behind me on the rope.
I felt along the cold stone wall, listening carefully for the deep thrumming that radiated through the water. It was getting stronger. Clearer.
The acidic feeling erupting inside of me was a warning that time was almost up. My heart pushed against my ribs, begging for air, and the slight numbness woke in my fingertips.
I could feel West stop behind me as I thought. If we went any farther, we wouldn’t make it back to the surface in time to get air. But if we weren’t far from the opening … I squinted, studying the darkness. And then I saw it. The faintest glow.
I pushed off the wall and swam. Green light swelled in the black, and as we got closer, it came down in a slice, like a wall of crystal in the water. I was dragging myself along the wall now, searching for holds to pull myself forward to reach it. When my hands caught the edge, I hauled myself forward and broke the surface with a gasp that brought both air and water into my lungs.
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