Saint

by Adrienne Young

I turned, stopping short when a face I didn’t recognize appeared among the dozens of others that filled the tavern. A black-haired girl with a pair of pale blue eyes rimmed in dark lashes shoved the door closed with one arm.

I didn’t know if it was this ship or the sea or the strange look of the sky that made my blood hum in my veins. I hoped it was. I hoped it was anything but him.

I didn’t know what we were doing. Where it could possibly lead. But this—he and I—we fit, somehow.

“I’ve wanted you since the minute I saw you. That’s the problem, Isolde.”

If there was a future for the Narrows, he was it. And that was a future for me too.