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Keep your knife where you can reach it. Never, ever owe anyone anything. Nothing is free. Always construct a lie from a truth. Never, under any circumstances, reveal what or who matters to you.
It was the spot I’d sat every morning, waiting for my father’s ship to return, even though he’d told me he wasn’t coming back. It took me two years to believe him.
Miles away, where the moonlight touched the black seam of the horizon, the Lark lay beneath the waters of Tempest Snare. And no matter where I went, I’d never get home. Because home was a ship that was at the bottom of the sea, where my mother’s bones lay sleeping.
Jevalis carried baskets of chicken eggs, lines of fish, and reams of rope up and down the dock, calling out to the crews that watched over the railings of their ships.
“You know why I’ve never liked you?” I smiled back at him. “Why?” “It’s not that you’re a liar. Everyone on this island is a liar. The problem with you, Fable, is that you’re a good one.” “Well, I’ve always liked you, Koy.” He laughed as he pulled the sail and the boat slowed. “See? I almost believed you.”
The night the Lark sank. The night my mother died. And in a single moment, everything changed. The next day, he left me behind on Jeval.
He was talking about respect. Safety. Protection. They were things no one owed you. And one way or another, you always paid.
There were five guilds that controlled almost every aspect of life in the Narrows—the Rye Guild, the Shipwrights Guild, the Sailmakers Guild, the Smiths Guild, and the Gem Guild. Each had a master, and the five guild masters sat on the Trade Council. They were the only ones who could grant traders the licenses they needed to do business at every port,
Saint’s crest—a wave curling over a triangle sail, painted on one of the crisp white shrouds of a clipper.
Brass buckles. I sighed with relief and shoved two of them into the purse at my belt, securing the lid back down and twisting it closed.
This wasn’t West’s ship. It was my father’s. Or it had been at one time. But the crest on the sails and the prow wasn’t his. So, either West was hiding where this ship came from, or he was hiding what it actually was. A shadow ship.
It was a grave offense against the Trade Council and one that would get a ship’s license permanently revoked. It didn’t surprise me that Saint had a shadow ship. Maybe he had many. But why would he trust a job like that to a bunch of Waterside strays? That was how they’d gotten their license from the Trade Council—Saint.
If they were Saint’s shadow ship, they’d hold a permit to trade gems because he would have made sure of it. But they didn’t, and that could only mean one thing—they were running side trade and pocketing on Saint’s ledgers. It was genius. And also, enormously stupid.
If a sailmaker or shipbuilder or gem dealer was caught conducting business without one of those rings, it was a crime punishable by death.
“West.” He nodded in greeting. “Pyre?” So, this was where he offloaded the pyre.
Let the record sgow vthat i still dont know what pyre is lmao
There was something knowing in the way he looked at me. Something that pulled at the knots in the net of lies we’d both told.
“Don’t tell me you admire the man who’s got you pinned under his thumb?”
“I’ll cast my vote to bring you on as our dredger.” The heat of him coiled around me. “If you tell me that you understand something.” “What is it?” His eyes ran over my face. “I can’t care about anyone else, Fable.” His meaning filled the small bit of space between us, making me feel like the walls were creeping in. Because I knew why he’d said it. It was in the way his eyes dropped to my mouth sometimes when he looked at me. It was in the way his voice deepened just a little when he said my name.
Like a weary bird flying out over the most desolate sea, I finally had a place to land.
This crew had already been in trouble when I stepped onto their ship, but I couldn’t help wondering if I was going to be the storm that finally sank them.
“And Fable?” I froze, one foot already outside the door. The cool, calm set of his mouth returned as he sank back into his chair, looking up at me. “You ever try to shake me down using your mother again, and I’ll forget you ever existed.”
Holland was the same trader Willa said had it out for Zola. The same trader whose coin controlled the gem trade.
And though West had said again and again that he didn’t do favors and that he didn’t take chances, he’d done both. Over and over. For me.
“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
“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’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,”
“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
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“And I think I’ve loved you since the first time we anchored in Jeval.”
A feeling like frost inside my lungs crept up my throat, the name frozen in my mouth. Clove.
