He stood over his desk, an open bottle of rye and an empty glass on the parchment before him.
I knocked lightly, and he looked up, straightening when I pushed the door open.
“You’re worried,” I said, stepping into the light.
He stared at me for a long moment before he came around the desk to face me. “I am.”
“Saint made a deal, West. He’ll keep it.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.”
“Then what?”
He seemed to think about how to say it before he spoke. “Things are changing in the Narrows. In the end, it might be better to have him on our side.”
“But you’ll never be free.”
“I know,” he said softly, pushing his hands into his pockets. He suddenly looked so much younger. For a moment, I could see him running along the docks of Ceros like the children we’d seen in Waterside. “But also … I think I’ll always feel like I owe him. Even if I pay the debt.”
I tried not to look surprised by the admission, but I understood that feeling. We weren’t supposed to owe anyone anything, but that was just a lie we told to make ourselves feel safe. Really, we’d never been safe. And we never would be.
“Marigold was my sister,” he said suddenly, picking up the white stone that sat at the corner of his desk.
“What?” The word was only a breath.
“Willa and I had a sister named Marigold. She was four years old when she died, while I was out at sea.” His voice grew timid. Apprehensive.
“How? What happened?”
“Whatever sickness that kills off half the people on Waterside.” He leaned back onto the desk, his hands clamped down over the edge. “When Saint gave me the ship, he let me name her.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
That was what West meant when he said that Willa had better chances on a ship than in Waterside. It was the reason he’d risked both their lives hiding her in the cargo hold, hoping the helmsman would take her on.
The weight of the silence grew in the small room, making me feel like I was sinking into the floor. He wasn’t just telling me about his sister. There was something else beneath the words.
“I’ve pocketed on Saint’s ledgers from the first day I started sailing under his crest, but I’ve never lied to him.”
“What?” I tried to read him, confused.
“The last time we were in Sowan, I set fire to a merchant’s warehouse on Saint’s orders. He was a good man, but he was making another trading outfit rich, so Saint needed him to stop supplying. He lost everything.”
I took a step backward, watching him. “What is this? What are you doing?”
“I’m answering your questions,” he said.
I held my breath as his eyes lifted to meet mine, so green that they could have been carved from serpentine.
He set the stone back down and stood up from his desk. “What else do you want to know?”
“Don’t.” I shook my head. “The moment you tell me anything, you’re going to be afraid of me.”
“I’m already afraid of you.” He took a step toward me. “The first helmsman I ever crewed for used to beat me in the hull of the ship. I caught and ate rats to survive because he didn’t feed Waterside strays who worked for him. The ring you traded for the dagger belonged to my mother. She gave it to me the first time I went to sea. I stole bread from a dying man for Willa when we were starving on Waterside and told her that a baker gave it to me because I was scared she wouldn’t eat it. The guilt of it has never left me even though I would do it again. And again. The only thing I know about my father is that his name might be Henrik. I’ve killed sixteen men, protecting myself or my family, or my crew.”
“West, stop.”
“And I think I’ve loved you since the first time we anchored in Jeval.” He grinned suddenly, staring at the floor, and a bit of red bloomed on his skin, creeping up out of the collar of his shirt.
“What?” The breath hitched in my chest.
But his smile turned sad. “I have thought about you every single day since that day. Maybe every hour. I’ve counted down the days to go back to the island, and I pushed us into storms I shouldn’t have because I didn’t want to not be there when you woke up. I didn’t want you to wait for me. Ever. Or to think I wasn’t coming back.” He paused. “I struck the deal with Saint because I wanted the ship, but I kept it because of you. When you got off the Marigold in Ceros and I didn’t know if I would ever see you again, I thought … I felt like I couldn’t breathe.”
I bit down on my bottom lip so hard that my eyes watered and the vision of him wavered before me.
“The only thing I feel truly afraid of is something happening to you.”
This wasn’t just enough of the truth to be believable. It was whole and naked, a first spring bloom waiting to wither in the sun.
“I kissed you because I’ve thought about kissing you for the last two years. I thought that if I just…” He didn’t finish. “We can’t do this by the rules, Fable. No secrets.” He stared at me.
“But in Ceros, you said…” The words trailed off.
“I underestimated my ability to be on this ship with you and not touch you.”
I stared at him, hot tears rolling down my cheeks as he lifted a hand between us, his palm open before me. I lifted mine to meet his, and his fingers closed between mine.
He was opening a door that we wouldn’t be able to get closed again. And he was waiting to see if I was going to walk through it.
What he was saying—the things he told me—was his way of showing me he trusted me. It was also his way of giving me the match. If I wanted to, I could burn him down. But if we were going to do this, I would have to be his safe harbor and he would have to be mine.
“I’m not going to take anything from you, West,” I whispered.
He let out a long breath, his hand squeezing mine. “I know that.”
I lifted onto my toes, pressing my mouth to his, and the boiling heat that had flooded into me underwater found me again, racing beneath every inch of my skin. The smell of rye and saltwater and sun poured into my lungs, and I drank it in like the first desperate sip of air after a dive.
His hands found my hips, and he walked me back until my legs hit the side of the bed. I opened his jacket and pushed it from his shoulders before he laid me down beneath him. His weight pressed down on top of me and I arched my back as his hands caught my legs and pulled them up around him.
I closed my eyes and tears rolled down my temples, disappearing into my hair. It was the way his skin felt against mine. It was the feeling of being held. I hadn’t been touched by another person in so long, and he was so beautiful to me in that moment that I felt as if my chest might crack open.
My head tipped back, and I pulled him closer so I could feel him against me. He groaned, his mouth pressed to my ear, and I tugged at the length of my shirt until I was pulling it over my head. He sat up, his eyes running over every inch of me and his breaths slowing.
I hooked my fingers into his belt, waiting for him to look at me. Because it was a wave that would retreat if I didn’t say it. It was a setting sun unless we could really trust each other.
The words wound tight in my throat, more tears sliding from the corners of my eyes. “Don’t lie to me and I won’t lie to you. Ever.”
And when he kissed me again, it was slow. It was pleading. The silence of the sea found us, my heartbeat quieting, and I painted each moment into my mind. The smell of him and the drag of his fingers down my back. The taste of salt when I kissed his shoulder and the slide of his lips down my throat.
Like light cast over the morning water, it became new. Every moment that lay ahead, like an uncharted sea.
This was a new beginning.
FORTY-ONE
The seabirds calling out over the water woke me from the deepest sleep I could remember.
I opened one eye, and the window in West’s quarters came into view, only on
e of its shutters closed. Outside, the gray morning was cloaked in fog, the cool mist creeping into the cabin. I rolled over, and West was sleeping beside me, his face softer than I’d ever seen it. He still smelled like saltwater, and I brushed an unruly strand of hair back from his forehead before I pressed my lips to his cheek.
The air was cold as I slipped out from under the quilt and walked to the window. I stood before the view of the silver water, eerie and calm before the warmth of sunlight touched it. West didn’t open his eyes as I pulled my clothes on, his breaths still deep and long.
His face was only half-lit in the pale light, and he looked so peaceful in that moment. So untouched.
I stepped with bare feet across the room and opened the door slowly, slipping out into the breezeway. The deck was empty except for Auster sitting at the prow beside a line of perched seabirds, as if he were one of them. I stopped midstride, looking back at West’s closed door, and a knowing smile spread on Auster’s face as he dragged the blade of his knife down the piece of wood in his hand, but he didn’t look up. He would pretend, the way everyone pretended not to know West and Willa were brother and sister. The same way they didn’t draw any attention to him and Paj. And in that moment, I felt more a part of the crew than I had guiding them through the Snare.
My face flushed again as I leaned against the mast and pulled my boots on.
Auster jumped down, coming to meet me. “Where are you going?”
I untied the ladder, and it unrolled against the hull with a slap. “There’s one more thing I have to do before we shove off.” I swung one leg over and climbed down, jumping onto the dock when I reached the bottom.
The fog was so thick that I couldn’t even see the ships in the bays, their masts emerging from the white mist here and there and then disappearing as it rolled in. I pulled my scarf up over my mouth, still smiling beneath it as I passed under the harbor’s archway. I would replay the night over and over, drowning in the memory of the way West looked in the candlelight. The way his bare skin felt against mine.
The village was quiet, with empty streets snaking between the cluttered buildings, and my footsteps were the only sound as I walked. It would be another hour before the sun was in the sky, burning the fog off the land, but its light was already beginning to bleed into the dark.
Three chimneys with billowing smoke appeared ahead, and I climbed the steep hill that led up to the tavern. As I passed, my reflection in the window made me stop, turning back to the bubbled glass. I pushed my hood back and stared into my own face, my hands raising to press against my pink cheeks.
I looked even more like her than I did when I was at Saint’s post. The cut of bone in my face and the deepest shade of red in my hair. It almost glowed in the mist, spilling out from the buttoned collar of my jacket and falling down over my chest.
A flash of blue lit behind the window, and I stilled, my eyes focusing beyond my reflection. I pressed one hand to the glass, the burn already lighting behind my eyes.
On the other side of the window, Saint sat at a table before a white teapot. He looked up at me, the look on his face stricken, as if he could see her too.
Isolde.
I pushed open the door and stepped inside, where the fire in the hearth was blazing, filling the room with a dry heat that crept inside my jacket and warmed me. The collar of Saint’s coat was unfolded up around his jaw, hiding half his face, and I pulled the chair beside him out from the table, taking a seat.
“I didn’t see your ship in the harbor,” I said, realizing suddenly that the feeling bubbling up inside me wasn’t anger. I was happy to see him, though I wasn’t sure why.
A woman shuffled in with another cup and set it down before me with three sugar cubes nestled on the rim of the little plate.
“May I?” I looked at the teapot, and he hesitated before he nodded. “What are you doing here, Saint?”
He watched me fill my cup, the light coming through the window brightening his crystal blue eyes. “I came to see if you did what I thought you would do.”
I glared at him, gritting my teeth. “You can’t take credit for this. Not this time.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?” I lifted the cup to my lips, and its fragrant steam hit my face, the smell of bergamot and lavender filling my nose.
“You’re going to get yourself killed, Fable,” he ground out as he leaned on the table, looking at me. “Just like she did.”
The tea burned in my mouth as I sipped, and I set it down, folding my shaking hands into my lap. I was glad in that moment that he didn’t say her name. I knew she was dead. I’d felt it in my bones when we rowed away from the Lark. But on my father’s lips, it became a different kind of truth.
I sniffed. The only thing worse than the pain that had carved a home inside me was knowing that he could see it.
“You don’t have anything to prove, Fay. Go back to Ceros and—”
“You think I’m doing this because I’m trying to prove something? I’m doing this because I have nothing else.” The words were bitter, because they weren’t entirely true. The Marigold and West were also what I wanted. But hopes like that were too sacred to speak aloud to a man like Saint.
“You don’t understand anything.”
“Then explain it. Tell me!” I shouted, my voice echoing in the empty room. “I know you don’t know how to love me. I know you’re not built for it. But I thought you loved her. She would have hated you for leaving me on that rock. She would have cursed you.” A cry slipped from my chest, but I kept myself from slamming my fists into the table.
He stared into his tea, his body rigid. “I swore to your mother that I would keep you safe. There is nowhere more dangerous in this world for you than being with me.”
My fingers coiled around each other in my lap, and I turned to the window, unable to keep the tears from falling. I’d always wanted to hear him say he loved me. I’d wanted to hear the words so many times. But in that moment, I was suddenly frightened he would. I was terrified to know how badly they would hurt me. “You were wrong. About so many things. But most of all, you were wrong about me.” I breathed.
“What does that mean?”
“You said I wasn’t made for this world.” I spit his words back at him, the ones that had echoed over and over in my mind since the day he left me.
He smiled just enough for the wrinkles to appear around his eyes. “And I meant it.”
“How can you say that?” I glowered at him. “I’m here. I made it off Jeval. I found my own crew. I did that.”
“You don’t know him.”
I bristled, realizing he was talking about West.
“He’s not who you think he is.”
My jaw clenched, and I swallowed, uneasy. Because that wasn’t like Saint. There was a heavy truth to his voice that I didn’t want to hear.
He looked up then, his eyes meeting mine, and I thought I could see the glimmer of tears in them. “You were made for a far better world than this one, Fable,” he rasped. “I was young. I hadn’t learned the rules yet when Isolde came asking me to take her onto my crew.” The words turned to a whisper. “I loved her with a love that broke me.”
He brushed the tear from the corner of his eye, dropping his gaze back down to the table. I didn’t think about it before I reached across the knotted wood and covered his hand with mine. I knew what he meant because I’d seen it. Everyone had. Isolde was the wind and sea and sky of Saint’s world. She was the pattern of stars that he navigated by, the sum of all directions on his compass. And he was lost without her.
We sat there in the silence, watching the village come to life outside the window, and in the time it took us to finish our tea, everything felt like it did back then. The smell of mullein smoke on my father’s coat. The clink of glasses with a fire at our backs. And as the sun rose, so did the unspoken goodbye between us.
When we got back to Ceros, West would repay his debt and the Marigold woul
d be ours.
I set my chin on my hand, twisting my fingers into my hair, and I looked at his face, memorizing every wrinkle. Every silver streak through his mustache. The way his eyes matched the blue of his coat so perfectly. I tucked the picture into my heart, no matter how badly it would make it ache.
The chair scraped over the stone floor as I stood, and I leaned down, kissing him on the top of his head. I wound my arms around his shoulders for the length of a breath, and two tears slipped down his rough cheeks, disappearing into his beard.
When I opened the door, I didn’t look back.
Because I knew I would never see my father again.
FORTY-TWO
The roof of the village gambit appeared at the end of the alley as I rounded the corner. It sat shrouded in the last of the morning mist, the sign that hung above the door reflecting the light.
I came up the steps, banging my fist on the window as the street behind me filled with carts on their way to the merchant’s house. When there was no answer, I peered through the grimy glass until the gambit appeared in the shadows. He hobbled toward the door, his eyes squinted against the light, and when he opened it, I pushed in.
“What the—” he grumbled.
I went straight for the cabinet in the back, sinking down onto my heels and looking inside. Rows of velvet-lined trays were stacked side by side, filled with silver chains and glittering baubles. But it wasn’t there.
“I traded you a gold ring for a jeweled dagger and a necklace the last time I was here.” I stood, going to the next case.
“Do you have any idea how many gold rings I have, girl?”
“This one was different. It had notches imprinted in the metal, all the way around.”
It wasn’t until I looked up that I realized the gambit was almost naked. His long shirt fell over his bare legs like a skirt. He huffed, making his way around the counter, and he pulled a black wooden box from another case. He dropped it on the counter before him and leaned into it, glaring at me.
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