“About time.” A smooth voice spoke behind me, and I turned to see Henrik Roth standing over me. A plum-colored bowtie was tied around his neck, his face freshly shaved.
I tried to read him, desperately hoping that he wasn’t about to ruin everything.
“What are you doing here?” Holland growled.
Henrik hooked his thumbs into the suspenders beneath his jacket. “Thought I’d come and watch all the fun.”
There was something unsettling in his smile. As if at any moment, his lips would spread to reveal fangs.
“Can’t get in without a merchant’s ring or a trading license,” he said. “So I thought you’d invite me as your guest.”
I could see Holland weighing her options. She could refuse and risk a scene—one that could reveal her connection to Henrik—or she could agree and risk the same thing happening inside. Either way, she could lose.
She took a step toward him. “You try anything and you won’t make it out of the pier alive.”
“Fine by me.” He smiled.
Holland gave an exasperated sigh before she led us to the threshold of the pier.
“They’re with me,” she said smoothly as the man at the door studied her merchant’s ring.
He answered with a nod, eyeing Henrik. He recognized him, and he wouldn’t be the only one who would.
Inside, glass lanterns hung from the rafters, filling the ceiling with what looked like rows of golden suns. More than one set of eyes lifted to land on me and West as we followed in Holland’s wake. More than one whisper broke the silence.
Holland wove through the fine suits and frocks until the floor opened to a railed rectangle, where two long, empty tables faced each other, each lined with five chairs. The crowd encircled it, filling every inch of the building, and my throat constricted when I realized what they were looking at.
Ezra’s teapots and teacups were set before each chair.
They were exactly as Holland conceived them, their forms astonishing and their grandeur inconceivable. The facets of each gem sparkled, drawing every eye in the room.
Tiered rows of seats marked with trading crests and merchant’s insignias overlooked the platform. Holland found her chair on the row closest to the tables.
I searched the other chairs, looking for Saint’s crest—a triangular sail wreathed by a cresting wave. But when I finally found his seat, it was empty. Behind it, Zola’s crest marked another.
I looked up to West. His eyes were trained on the same thing.
“Do you see him?” I spoke under my breath.
He scanned the room, over the heads around us. “No.”
I touched the back of West’s hand before I shouldered away from him, finding the stairs that led up to Holland.
I took my place beside her, watching the room. Henrik stood at the side of the platform beside West, a look of pure enjoyment on his face. Ezra hadn’t said Henrik was going to be there, and if there was some scheme that betrayed both Holland and Saint, we were about to find out.
A woman came by with a tray of cava glasses, and Holland took two, handing one to me.
The pop of a gavel slamming on the table made me flinch, and the crowd instantly quieted, pressing tighter together as the doors on the balcony flew open.
A single line of men and women filed out, taking the stairs down to the platform and finding their seats. Their newly tailored coats and frocks were trimmed with gold and velvet, their hands covered in jeweled rings. The Narrows Trade Council. Even in their finery, you could see their rough edges. They took their places at the far table before they were followed by the council representing the Unnamed Sea, whose opulence was even more grand.
When they were all in place, they took their seats together. The scrape of chair legs echoed in the silence.
Again, I looked to Saint’s seat. It was still empty.
The woman representing the Narrows Smiths Guild leaned into the master of the Shipwrights Guild, whispering as two men with white gloves filled the ornate teacups before them. It looked as if the teapots were floating off the table, and I could see that Holland liked the admiration. That had been the point.
She swirled the cava in her glass, watching both councils study the pieces with a satisfied grin sliding up the side of her face. She was priming them for her proposal.
The gavel fell again as the master of the Rye Guild for the Unnamed Sea stood. He brushed his coat before he turned to the crowd. “I’d like to welcome you on behalf of the Unnamed Sea and the Narrows to the Biennial Trade Council meeting.”
The doors to the pier closed, shutting out the sunlight, and the room fell quieter, making my palms sweat. I searched the faces in the crowd for my father, my eyes looking for the brilliant blue of his coat.
Beside me, Holland was relaxed, patiently waiting for her moment.
“We’ll open first for new business.” The guild master’s deep voice rang out and the slide of eyes drifted toward the merchant’s seats.
Holland took her time standing, looking out over the room. She was enjoying this. “Esteemed councils, I’d like to put forth today an official request for a license to expand my trading route from Bastian to Ceros.”
The silence resounded, the attention of both councils on my grandmother.
It was the Narrows Gem Guild master who spoke first. She stood, teacup in hand. “This is the fourth time in eight years that you’ve submitted a request for a license, and the answer has always been the same.”
The Gem Guild master from the Unnamed Sea stood next. “The successful enterprise of Holland’s trade has benefited both the Unnamed Sea and the Narrows. Most of the stones traded in your waters have come from her dredging crews. We support her request, as we have done in the past.”
As I suspected, the harbor master wasn’t the only one in Holland’s pocket.
“It is imperative that traders in the Narrows continue to run their routes,” the Narrows Gem Guild master replied.
“Let them,” Holland answered.
“We all know that if your ships start sailing the Narrows, it will sink the trade based out of Ceros.”
The Gem Guild master from the Unnamed Sea lifted her chin. “What trade? Word has it that half of Zola’s fleet has been burned in a petty traders’ rivalry and he hasn’t been seen in weeks. Saint didn’t even bother to take his seat at today’s meeting.”
My pulse kicked up as I eyed the empty chair again. Where was he?
A sick feeling settled in the pit of my stomach then, the edges of thought coming into focus. If Saint wasn’t here, it could only mean one of two things. Either he hadn’t made it to the meeting because Holland had made sure of it, or … I swallowed.
What if he’d never intended on making it? What if this was another one of his twisted schemes? Looking out for himself. Letting me draw fire from Holland so that it didn’t find him. Maybe he’d struck his own deal. By now, he could even be back in the Narrows.
I bit down onto my lip and breathed through the pain erupting in my chest. That bastard.
“I have a proposal that I think will suit both councils.” Holland spoke again.
Both Gem Guild masters sat back down, and everyone turned to my grandmother, listening.
She flicked a finger at me, signaling me to stand, and I got to my feet, the weight of hundreds of eyes falling on me.
My mind raced and I looked to the teapots on the tables before us. If Saint wasn’t here, there was only one way to bring Holland down. But if I did what needed to be done, I wasn’t the only one who would pay the price with Holland. West would, too.
I found him in the crowd. He stood at the back corner, his eyes boring into me. The set of his shoulders was rigid as he gave the slightest shake of his head in answer.
Don’t do it, Fable.
“I would like to put forth my granddaughter as head of my trade in Ceros,” Holland crooned.
Silence.
“She was born on a trading ship in the Narrows, where she’s li
ved her entire life. She’s a dredger, a trader, and a gem sage.”
I blinked. A hush fell over the huge room, and I tried not to move. Holland’s attention didn’t leave the councils before us, where more than one master on the Narrows Trade Council whispered to their neighbor.
“She will sail beneath my crest with a fleet of six ships and set up a post in Ceros under the authority of the Narrows Trade Council and Gem Guild,” Holland continued. “Our inventory will be limited to gems and gems only.”
But everyone in the room had to know what that really meant. She’d start with gems. As her coffers grew, so would her inventory. Smaller traders would go under and she’d be there to pick up the pieces. In no time, she’d own the Narrows.
“Shall we call for a vote?” The master of the Unnamed Sea Rye Guild stood, tucking his hands into his gold-lined pockets.
The masters each gave hesitant nods and my hands curled to fists inside my jacket pockets, my heart hammering. She was going to win. She was going to get everything.
I took a step forward before I could change my mind, my skin going cold. But as my lips parted, the door at the back of the pier flew open, filling the room with bright sunlight. I blinked furiously, my eyes adjusting to see a sharp silhouette moving through the crowd.
“My apologies.” My father’s deep voice resonated throughout the room, and I let out a painful breath, swallowing. “I’m late.”
The Unnamed Sea Trade Council eyed Saint suspiciously as he made his way up onto the platform between the tables.
He didn’t look at me as he walked to his chair, flinging his coat out behind him before he sat. “Now, what have I missed?”
THIRTY-NINE
No one looked more shocked and outraged than Holland. She was carved from ice beside me.
“We’re due to vote on Holland’s proposal to open her route to Ceros,” the Gem Guild master from the Narrows answered. She looked almost relieved to see him.
“Ah.” Saint pulled the pipe from his pocket, rubbing the smooth chamber with his thumb, as if he was thinking about lighting it. “That won’t happen, I’m afraid.”
“I’m sorry?” The surface of Holland’s flawless calm suddenly cracked.
Saint leaned forward to meet her eyes down the line of chairs. “You won’t have that merchant’s ring on your finger much longer. It would be a shame to waste parchment on a trade license.”
Holland squared her shoulders to him, fixing Saint with her murderous gaze. “You have got to be—”
“I’d like to submit a formal charge.” Saint stood back up, taking hold of the opening of his jacket with one hand.
A streak of bright red streaked up from his collar to his chin. Blood. It looked like he’d tried to wipe it clean. And I didn’t see a wound, which meant that it wasn’t his.
“Against Holland and her licensed gem trade operation.”
“And what is the charge?” the Gem Guild master from the Unnamed Sea screeched.
“Manufacturing and trading gem fakes,” Saint answered.
A collective gasp sucked the air out of the room, and the Gem Guild master from the Unnamed Sea sprang to his feet. “Sir, I hope you understand the gravity of this accusation.”
“I do,” Saint said with feigned formality. “Holland has been systematically leaking fake gemstones into the shipments for the Narrows, and I’d like to request the revocation of her merchant’s ring, as well as her license to trade in the Unnamed Sea.”
Holland was trembling beside me, so furious she had to reach out for the railing in front of her to keep from falling. “This is ridiculous! The accusation is false!”
“I assume you have proof?” the man at the end of the table asked, looking warily to Saint.
This wasn’t just bad for the trade. It was bad for the Unnamed Sea.
“You’ve already got it.” He flung a hand lazily to the tables. “You’re holding in your hands the same fakes she’s been leaking into the Narrows.”
The man set down his teacup and it clattered against the plate sharply. He looked at it as if it had bitten him. “You’re not serious.”
“You’re insane. There isn’t a single fake in those pieces!” Holland shouted, her eyes wild. She stumbled forward, catching herself on the arm of her chair. “Check them for yourself!”
The Gem Guild master from the Unnamed Sea poured the tea from her cup onto the ground, stepping to the nearest candle and holding it to the flame.
She inspected it carefully, turning it so the light moved in the stones. “Someone get me a gem lamp. Now!”
“While we’re waiting…” Saint sat on the corner of the table, kicking his leg. “I have another charge to present as well.”
“Another,” Holland seethed.
Saint gave a nod, pulling a piece of parchment from his jacket. “Six days ago, the Luna, flagship of Zola’s Ceros-posted trade operation, made port in Bastian. It hasn’t been seen since. Nor has its helmsman.”
Holland went still.
“The next night, he was murdered at the gala at Azimuth House.”
If there was an ounce of warmth left in the room, it was gone now.
“Last I checked, conspiracy to murder a fellow trader was an offense that requires the revocation of a trade license.”
That’s what he was doing. Covering his bases. Just in case the Roths didn’t come through and they’d put real gems in the tea sets. But Saint was taking a huge risk by making an accusation like that. There wasn’t a trader in the room that couldn’t accuse him of the same crime.
I froze, my eyes finding West in the crowd. That wasn’t true. Because Saint never did his own dirty work. He was never even present for it.
That’s why he’d had West.
“I’d like to submit the sworn statement of Zola’s navigator, who witnessed the death of his helmsman at the gala himself.”
A head of pale blond hair appeared from the crowd, and Clove stepped onto the platform. My mouth dropped open. They were going to take Holland down for the very plot they themselves orchestrated.
“Well?” the Gem Guild master from the Unnamed Sea snapped.
“It’s true,” Clove answered. “I saw it with my own eyes. Holland ordered the murder of Zola in her study. Then she pieced out and sank the Luna in Bastian’s bay.”
“He’s lying!” Holland screamed, panicked now. She shuffled down the steps to the platform, her skirts clutched and wrinkled in her hands. “They’ve worked this out together. Both of them.” Her voice disintegrated.
“No.” The word fell from my lips heavily, echoing. I’d spoken without even planning to. I was intoxicated by the show of it. By the sheer genius design of it all. “They’re not. I was there.” Holland turned to me, her eyes wide and hollow. “It’s true,” I said.
Shouting erupted as a heaving man appeared in the open doorway of the pier, a gem lamp clutched in his big hands. He hobbled up to the platform, setting it down onto the table.
The Gem Guild master from the Narrows picked up the teacup and slammed it against the table. I flinched as she hit it again, working one of the stones free. The man lit the wick in the lamp and the guild master pulled off her jacket, setting the stone onto the glass. Everyone watched in utter silence.
The gem scraped against the glass as she turned it, the hard set of her jaw tightening. “It’s true,” she confirmed. “They’re fakes.”
A roar of protest broke out, enveloping everything in the room.
“That’s impossible!” Holland cried. “The craftsman! He must have—”
“They were crafted in your warehouse, were they not?” Saint raised an eyebrow at her.
She had no way out now. She’d lose her ring for commissioning work from an unlicensed merchant if she told the truth about where they’d come from. She was trapped.
Every one of the council members stood then, their voices joining in the chaos as they yelled at one another across the platform. It was a fall that would affect the whole of the Unnamed
Sea.
Holland sank to the steps of the platform, her hands shaking in her lap as the Gem Guild master marched toward her. “Your ring has been revoked. And if we don’t find Zola by the time the sun goes down, so will your license.”
Holland fumbled with the ring, pulling it free before she dropped it into his hand. “You don’t understand. They … they did this.”
He ignored her, signaling the two men waiting behind him. They stepped forward, waiting, and Holland got back to her feet, pushing past them to the doors.
The gavel struck again, calling the voices to quiet, and a flustered Rye Guild master fidgeted with it in his hands. “I’m afraid we’ll have to reconvene—”
“Not yet,” Saint interrupted, still standing in the center of the platform. “I still have new business.”
The man gaped at him. “New business? Now?”
“That’s right.” He pulled another parchment from his jacket. “I’d like to submit a request for a license to trade at the port of Bastian.” His voice echoed. “On behalf of my daughter and her ship, the Marigold.”
I stopped breathing, every drop of blood stilling in my veins.
My daughter.
I had never in my life heard him say that word.
Saint turned to look at me, his eyes meeting mine. And every face in the room blinked out into black, leaving only him. And me. And the storm of everything between us.
Maybe, I thought, he was paying what was owed. Breaking even after what I’d done for him. Maybe he was making sure that there was no debt to be laid at his feet.
But that was the license. Not the words. That wasn’t why he’d called me his daughter.
I sucked in a breath through the pain in my throat, not able to keep the tears from falling. They slid down my cheeks silently as I stared at him. And the look in his eye sparked like the strike of flint. Strong and steady and proud.
He was handing over the sharpest blade to whoever might use it against him. But more than that, he was claiming me.
“Granted.” The voice shook me from the trance, bringing me back to the room. Where every eye looked between us.
Helmsman. Dredger. Trader. Orphan. Father.
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