The Last Legacy

by Adrienne Young

  “Void the contract or I take Simon down. Either way, Henrik will get that ring. It’s just a matter of whether you’ll still be left standing at your father’s side at the end of this.”

  I could hardly believe my own words. Because I meant them. I was completely willing to burn them to the ground and walk away with the flames at my back. There was nothing inside of me that even flinched at the thought.

  “When?” Coen spat.

  I arched an eyebrow at him.

  “When do you need it canceled by?”

  “Now,” I answered. “By sunset at the latest. But no one can know. Not yet.”

  That part would be up to Violet to handle. I didn’t care how she did it, as long as she kept her word.

  “If you do this,” Coen said, some of the anger bleeding out of him, “there will be no escaping him. Even if I don’t tell him, he will find out. And my father will kill you.” He was looking at me, and they weren’t empty words. He was worried. For a split second, I almost believed that he cared.

  “He won’t be able to find us,” I said.

  Coen’s brow furrowed before a look of understanding settled in his expression. “‘Us’?” He glanced between Ezra and me, and after a moment, he looked like he was going to laugh. “Of course.” He shook his head.

  He ran both hands over his face, exhaling. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

  I let out a ragged breath, feeling like I was going to fall to the ground with relief. “Thank you.”

  The wind blew Coen’s hair over his forehead as he looked down at me. More than once, he reconsidered whatever he was about to say. In the end, it was only a warning. “Be careful, Bryn. I mean it.”

  I gave him one last look before I started toward the main street, but when Ezra didn’t follow, I stopped. He took one slow step toward Coen until they were almost nose to nose.

  “Now you’re the one holding weighted dice,” Ezra said.

  Coen’s eyes widened and I watched his mouth open, ready to deny it.

  But Ezra didn’t blink. He didn’t speak. Beneath the anger in his face, there was sadness. It was painful to look at.

  He turned his back to Coen, pulling his cap down low again, and when he reached me, I took his hand. His fingers closed over mine as we walked, but he watched the street around us warily.

  “You knew?” I breathed.

  Ezra nodded. “I always knew.”

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  The Roths were dressed in their finest, boots shined and watches sparkling, as we stood before the gem guild commission. It would be Henrik’s first time crossing that threshold, and if Coen and Violet came through, it wouldn’t be his last.

  Casimir carried the carved wooden chest in his arms, balancing it against his broad frame. The sides and tops were decorated in pearl and abalone inlay that mimicked the tales of the sea demons, with rolling waves and bones on the sea floor. Its gold lock was polished so brightly that it reflected the sunlight like a mirror.

  Inside was everything Henrik had worked for since that fateful night when he threw the dice at Simon’s. It was also everything forged by Ezra’s hands. His best work. His most valuable creations.

  Everything Ezra wanted to leave behind.

  The heavy doors opened and a man in an emerald-green suit looked down at us from the top of the steps. We didn’t look like the crude cuts of stone from Lower Vale anymore, cleaned of the outer rock and cut for weighing. No, we were the faceted, brilliant gems of the Merchant’s District now.

  The man waved us inside and Ezra stayed close to me as I climbed the stairs, his arm brushing mine. The only safety we had from what was about to happen was that neither Henrik nor Simon would risk their place with the guild by drawing a knife inside the commission. At least, I hoped they wouldn’t. I’d underestimated Henrik before.

  The wide corridor was lined with richly oiled wood panels and a glass ceiling overhead cast the entire interior of the commission in bright light. The panes were spotless, and the blue sky looked like it had been painted there.

  Voices swelled around us as the corridor opened up to a great hall, where the men and women of the guild were gathered, cava glasses in hand. They had donned their best garments and jewels for the occasion, sure to maintain appearances in front of the two candidates for the ring. It would be Henrik’s job to impress them with the collection if he wanted their votes.

  More than one of the merchants watched me with a curious, attentive gaze, their eyes roaming over my suit, down to my polished leather shoes.

  “Over here.” A woman motioned us forward, to a long, narrow table that was covered in a black silk drape.

  This was where the collection would be viewed, each member of the guild making their own pass and assessment before the votes were cast. It was a delicate thing. The merchants would choose based not only on the beauty of the pieces, but on the candidate. The collection that was most impressive would add to the gem guild’s renown and power, keeping the Trade Council of the Unnamed Sea with the upper hand over the Narrows. But adding a merchant to the guild with that much talent also meant competition. And there was a very cutthroat hierarchy to be maintained.

  I had no doubt that Henrik would navigate those treacherous waters beautifully. He knew how to charm, and he knew how to lie. Most important, he knew how to get what he wanted.

  Across the room, Arthur’s collection was set out and ready for the exhibition. Gilded hand mirrors and silver combs and diamond-studded goblets were on display. He stood along the wall with his companions, his suit jacket a bit too tight. But he looked smug.

  Casimir set down the case and Ezra pulled the gold key from his pocket, unlocking it. There was a quiet hush that dropped in the room as he lifted the lid. Inside, a neatly organized tray held the pieces that would be displayed. The silver was so bright that more than one whisper sounded behind us.

  Henrik looked like a cat; his wrinkle-framed eyes squinted with delight. He was confident, and he had every reason to be. He’d also made peace with this loss to Simon, a slight that wouldn’t go unanswered. He’d have to play the long game, but in his mind, he would find a way to get Ezra back. I, on the other hand, would be left to fend for myself.

  Ezra handled the pieces with care, setting them out along the table in a specific order to be viewed. When he got to the bird earrings, a little twist ignited in my gut. The night I’d worn them was the night I became a Roth, and I’d wager it was also the night I fell in love with Ezra Finch.

  The conversation around us picked up and I looked to the entrance, where Coen’s suit was washed in the sunlight cascading down from the ceiling. He was in a black jacket and a silver cravat that made his eyes appear an even deeper shade of blue. Simon was at his side, a warm smile on his face as he greeted his fellow merchants. This charade was as much for the candidates as it was for the patrons. Today, all eyes would be on him.

  Once the gem guild master called the exhibition to order, Simon’s patronage would be formally announced, and that made him the man of the hour. Little did the gem guild know that it was a deal struck with Henrik as the loser.

  When Coen spotted me, his placid smile faded, and he slipped from his father’s side. He made his way toward me, weaving in and out of the attendants until he stood only inches away.

  “Take my arm,” he said, lifting his elbow.

  I obeyed, hooking my hand around it, and he started walking, leading us around the back of the room. Dozens of eyes followed us and I knew why. We made a handsome pair. One that would give our families an advantage against the purebred members of the gem guild. But I was no longer even the slightest bit interested in doing my duty to the Roths.

  “Is it done?” I asked.

  Coen took a glass of cava from one of the servers and handed it to me before he took one for himself. He was still smiling, being sure to put on airs for his father, who watched us from a distance.

  He lifted the glass to his lips. “It’s done.”

  I closed my eyes,
breathing deep. When I opened them, Coen was studying me. If I didn’t know better, I’d think there was hurt in his eyes.

  “Thank you,” I said, pulling away from him.

  But he caught my hand, holding me there. “Bryn.” He hesitated.

  “What is it?” I spoke under my breath, trying to keep from drawing the curiosity of the people around us.

  “Don’t ever come back,” he said, seriously. “If you do, he will kill you.”

  I was sure he was going to say something more. Maybe a heartfelt goodbye of some kind. But he only looked at me once more before he let go, his hand slipping from mine. Then he was disappearing into the crowd.

  I pushed my way back toward Ezra, but another hand caught hold of me, making the cava swish from the lip of my glass. It dripped over my hand, falling to the floor.

  “Careful.” Violet Blake’s honey-laced voice was suddenly beside me. She had a soft smile, her eyes rimmed in shimmering powder. “I hope you have good news for me,” she purred.

  “Simon’s contract with the Serpent has been canceled. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s finished with them.”

  She batted her eyelashes at me. “And how exactly did you manage that, little Roth?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Violet looked around us, tucking a strand of shiny hair behind her ear. “I suppose I’d better get ready for the big announcement then. It’s a good thing I wore the red, don’t you think?”

  I looked down at her beautiful frock. The fabric was the color of blood and it was perfect. She was perfect.

  “There’s a ship in the harbor waiting for two more passengers. The Mystic.” She sipped her cava, tapping her diamond ring on the belly of the glass as she emptied it.

  “What?” I stared at her.

  “I don’t need you hanging around to complicate things once the sun sets on this little arrangement.”

  “Thank you,” I said, hoping that she could hear in my words how much I meant it. She’d done it for herself, I knew that. But I would still owe her for it. I’d owe her forever.

  Her lips pursed with pleasure and she lifted her chin, looking down her nose at me as she plucked the glass from my hand. I smiled when she began to drink from it. “You’d better get going. The master will start soon.”

  I gave her one last smile before I shouldered through the merchants. When I reached the table, my uncles were lined up in a handsome trio and the sight reminded me of that portrait in the study. They were only missing my mother.

  I caught Ezra’s eyes and he walked toward me, leaving Murrow’s side.

  Henrik watched the room, his hands folded behind his back. He stood up straight, his perfectly groomed mustache hiding the grin on his mouth, but it was visible in his eyes.

  “You have to decide now,” I said, keeping my voice low as I took the place beside him.

  He looked down at me. “What?”

  I shoved my hands into my pockets to keep them from trembling. “In a few minutes, the master will announce your patronage from Violet Blake. If you want it.”

  Henrik turned his back to the room slowly, his eyes widening. “Bryn, what are you talking about?” There was still excitement in his voice. He didn’t understand what was happening yet. How could he?

  “Violet has agreed to be your patron. You’ll have a powerful ally in the guild, and you won’t be beholden to Simon.”

  “Why would she do that?” Now he sounded suspicious.

  “You have to agree…” My voice wavered and I swallowed, clearing my throat. “You have to agree to let us go.”

  “Who?” His brow wrinkled, his mustache going lopsided.

  “Ezra.” I breathed. “And me.”

  Slowly, the look in Henrik’s eyes turned vicious.

  “If you take Simon’s patronage, Ezra will belong to him. You might think you can get him back, but you can’t. And you’ll never hold sway over the gem trade if Simon has Ezra working for him.” I paused. “If you take Violet’s patronage, you’ll still lose Ezra, but so does Simon. The playing field will be equal.”

  Beside me, Ezra was listening, but his eyes were on the room around us.

  “Simon is your enemy. He will always be your enemy. But Violet can be an ally.”

  “And you?” Henrik growled.

  “You’ve lost me either way, too.”

  He stared at me, waiting for an explanation.

  “You lost me the moment you tried to sell me to Coen,” I said, my voice lowering. “Even if you find a way to keep me here, you’ll never be able to trust me again.”

  Henrik looked as if he’d swallowed fire. His chest was pumping beneath his jacket, the red in his skin boiling. “Arthur still has a patronage. It’s still me or him. What if the vote doesn’t go in my favor?”

  I shrugged. “That’s up to fate,” I said. “It was always going to be up to fate.”

  He was quiet. Behind him, Casimir, Noel, and Murrow were lost in conversation, drinking cava and unaware of the silent war being waged only feet away.

  I reached into the pocket of my vest, pulling a thick envelope free. He stared at it before he took it and opened the flap. Inside was the key and the deed to the tea house, along with the ledger. As soon as he realized what it was, he discreetly pulled it into his jacket, concealing it.

  “You can still do it. You can still finish what she started,” I said, my throat tight.

  He was quiet for a long moment before he turned back to the room and I watched as slowly, he pulled himself together. Piece by piece, he recomposed himself, his cool manner returning.

  “If you walk away, you walk away with nothing.” He was talking to Ezra now.

  “I know.” There was almost a tenderness in the way Ezra looked at him. As if there was some part of him that was grieving. And maybe there was. From what little I knew, Henrik had been the closest thing to a father that Ezra had ever had. The Roth house had been his home, even if it had been one with steep costs.

  Henrik swallowed, smoothing over the look on his face until he looked like himself again. “Gotta hand it to you,” he said, a bit of slyness reaching his voice. “For a girl who was raised on a gold platter in Nimsmire, you sure look a lot like a Roth to me.”

  He didn’t take his eyes off me and I found that my heart hurt at the words. It was the only approval I’d ever get from my uncle. I wondered if to him, it was a parting gift.

  I looked past him, to where Murrow was standing at the table. He was watching us, the smile missing from his face. He looked at me with a question in his eyes, but I couldn’t answer. I didn’t know how to say goodbye to him. This was where he belonged. Where he would always belong.

  As I thought it, he gave me a small smile and turned back to his father. It was a kind farewell. A gentle one.

  The feel of Ezra’s hand was suddenly at my back, making me blink, and then we were walking. Toward the light. The hum of the room bled away as we glided through the corridor, and when we stepped out onto the street, I drew in the deepest breath I’d ever taken. Air laced with salt and freedom poured into my lungs and our boots hit the cobblestones in tandem, making my heart race.

  Ezra reached up, untying the green silk cravat knotted around his neck. He dropped it to the street, and it fluttered behind us as he unbuttoned the top of his shirt, pulling it open with his scarred hands. I could almost feel the ropes loosening around him. No more tidy and timely. No more clenched fists and swallowed words at family dinners and orders to be followed.

  Behind us, the commission was being called to order. In moments, the exhibition would begin, and the guild would inspect Ezra’s collection, with no idea that he was gone. That he was never coming back. The votes would be cast and either my uncle would leave that building with a ring on his finger, or he wouldn’t. Maybe I would never know.

  The entrance to the harbor appeared ahead and I stopped at the top step, searching the bows until I saw it. The crew of the Mystic was scrambling over the deck, the sails unrolling on the
masts as they readied the ship to set sail.

  “Where is it going?” Ezra spoke beside me. The way he looked with his unkempt hair blowing over his face in the wind was like looking at a different person. One I’d only glimpsed that night in his room when I kissed him in the dark and he unwound in my arms.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Do you care?”

  Ezra grinned. It wasn’t heavy and restrained like before. This time, there was light in his eyes as he answered. “No.” He breathed. “I don’t.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  This book was such a wild ride from start to finish, and I am very lucky that I had so many amazing people in my corner to make it come to life.

  Most deserving of my gratitude, as always, is my family. Joel, Ethan, Josiah, Finley, and River, thank you for keeping my world filled with love and laughter.

  Thank you to Barbara Poelle, who worked her best agent magic to make sure this book saw the light of day. And to my editor, Eileen Rothschild, whom the Roths were named after. Thank you for your unflinching belief that I could do this.

  Thank you to Vicki Lame, who donned the editor superhero cape for this project. What a lovely twist of fate it was!

  Another book, another thank-you to the rest of my Wednesday Books team: Sara Goodman, Lisa Bonvissuto, DJ DeSmyter, Alexis Neuville, Mary Moates, Brant Janeway, and cover designer Kerri Resnick for setting her hands to yet another amazing cover.

  Thank you to Kristin Dwyer, who convinced me to throw caution to the wind and call my agent about this project when it would not. Stop. Haunting me. I don’t know if I can really put into print, for eternal record, that you were “right” … but I will say I’m glad I listened to you.

  An enormous thank-you to Carolyn Schweitz, my right hand and also the only functioning part of my brain. Without you, I literally would not have finished this novel and I am so grateful to have you on my team.

  Thank you to Natalie Faria, my beta reader who is always one of the first sets of eyes on any story I write.