Everything hurt.
The light beaming into the room pierced like a knife through my skull. I peeked one eye open, swallowing the urge to throw up again. Beside the bed, the pail I’d emptied my stomach into throughout the night was gone. The window had been cracked open, letting the sea air drift inside, and I sat up slowly. The room wasn’t spinning anymore.
A basin of water sat on a stand in the corner, and I washed my face, rinsing my mouth as best I could before I rebraided my hair. The strands caught the morning light, making the hue of red look almost violet. My belt sat on the floor beside the bed, and I picked up the coin purse, throwing it into the air and then catching it. If Willa was telling the truth and West had ordered her to follow me, there might be a chance I could get him to take me on.
The tavern was already awake below. The clang of teacups and the vibration of voices carried up the stairs and under the door, and I took each step carefully, my head pounding. As soon as I appeared, Willa lifted a hand from a bench in the corner and a wide smile erupted on her face. She bit her lip to keep from laughing.
Paj, Auster, and Hamish were hunched over plates of bread and dishes of butter, greeting me with full mouths.
“Look what the rye washed up.” Auster tore a piece of bread from the loaf and held it out to me. I shook my head, finding a place to sit beside Paj. But Auster pushed it toward me. “Trust me, you need to get something in your stomach.”
Willa set a teacup down before me and filled it with steaming black tea. When a plate clattered on a table behind us, I winced, the pain in my head exploding. I put my face into my hands and tried to breathe through it.
Auster dropped two lumps of sugar into the cup. The hair was pulled up off his shoulders, his face washed clean. “So, what happened to your plan to crew for Saint?”
“It didn’t … work out,” I mumbled.
He laughed. “I could have told you it wouldn’t.” “I did tell you it wouldn’t,” Willa echoed.
And she’d been right. Even though I was his daughter, Saint was still Saint.
“What are you going to do?” Paj watched me from the top of his cup.
I picked at the edge of the bandage wrapped around my hand nervously. It was a crew that was better than most, even if they were small and steeped in trouble. I hadn’t once had one of their blades at my throat, except for the night I’d climbed the ladder to their ship. They looked out for one another and they traded smart, even if they traded risky. There was an empty hammock in the belly of the Marigold, and really, there was nowhere else to go.
I met Willa’s eyes, taking a deep breath. “Where’s West?” “Hasn’t come down yet.” Her eyes drifted to the stairs.
I took a cautious sip of my tea. If I asked them to take me on without West there, maybe I’d have a better chance of stacking the vote. But I’d make an enemy of West when he found out. It was better to wait.
“Probably headed out early.” Hamish took his leather book from his jacket and set it onto the table. “All right, Willa, you and Auster are on galley supplies. Just fill the grain barrel and we’ll eat lean.”
“What?” Auster looked offended.
Hamish sighed. “We need to cut as many corners as we can until Sowan if we’re going to pay for the losses and the repairs.”
Auster shook his head. “I hate porridge.”
“Well, that’s all you’re going to be eating until the next time we’re in Ceros. Maybe longer.” Hamish eyed him. “Paj, we need to replace those damaged riggings, but don’t go to that bastard on Waterside again. His
prices are too high, and after this storm, there’s bartering to be done, with so many ships looking for repairs.”
“And the hull?” Willa leaned on her elbows. “We need to get back on the water as soon as possible.”
“The crew we hired worked through the night, so they should be finishing up the most urgent repairs this morning. Let’s get to the docks and check on them first. West is probably already down there, and I can give you exact numbers for the riggings.”
“All right.” Paj slathered a thick layer of jam onto another slice of bread with the back of his spoon.
Hamish made a few more marks on the page before he slapped the book closed and stood. The others followed, and I stared up at them. They pulled their caps and jackets on, sipping down the last of their tea. Auster stuffed his pockets with the remaining bread on the table, and Paj took the leftover bits from the empty table beside us.
“Come on, dredger.” Willa tipped her chin toward the door.
I hesitated, looking to the others for an objection, but there was none. The four of them stood, waiting in the cool morning light pooling in from the window. I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling and then gulped down my tea, following them out into the alley.
“He’ll never agree.” I spoke low, so only Willa could hear me. “Then you better make a good case if you want him outvoted.”
She was right. I didn’t need West to agree. I just needed a majority of votes. There was nothing he would be able to do about it if the crew wanted to take me on. He’d be forced to comply.
She winked before she pushed ahead, leaving me at the back of the line.
Overhead, the bridges were already full of people. We wove through the streets, cutting through tight passages and around sharp corners until we were spit out onto the cobblestone paths of Waterside. The wind hit us like a wall as we stepped down onto the street, and the sea reached out before us, behind an endless line of ships bobbing in bays. Barefoot children swarmed around us, their faces streaked with soot and dirt, their hands open.
Waterside strays. Like West.
I couldn’t imagine him, sun-bleached hair and golden skin, begging for food on street corners and digging through refuse in alleyways. I didn’t want to.
Paj pulled the bread from his pockets and tore it into pieces, passing them out, but Auster lifted his into the air. A swarm of seabirds appeared a moment later, plucking the pieces from his hands as he walked.
Willa stopped short in front of me, and I slammed into her as a strangled gasp tore from her throat. A prick ran up and over every inch of my skin, and I looked around us, searching the docks for whatever she saw. Paj’s hand reached back, finding Auster’s, and Hamish stopped, every face tilted up to the sky in the distance.
“No.” The whispered word broke in Willa’s mouth.
I stepped past her, the sting on my skin turning to a devouring fire as my eyes found it.
The Marigold.
Her masts reached up against the blue sky, the sails unfurled and slashed.
Every single one—sliced white canvas flapping in the wind.
Paj and Auster took off running, their boots slapping on the wet stone, and Hamish pressed the back of his fist to his mouth.
“What—who—?” I stammered.
But Willa was already turning in a circle, her gaze running down the line of ships docked around us until she saw the crest she was looking for. The Luna.
“Zola…” she growled.
We ran after Auster and Paj, pushing through the crowd of people who were already gathered around the ship, staring. The two men Hamish had paid to keep watch were lying on the dock in pools of their own sticky blood, their wide, empty eyes turned up to the sky.
“West!” Willa called out, climbing up the ladder as fast as her feet would take her. I followed, my palms burning on the ropes. But Auster and Paj were already waiting on the deck.
“He’s not here,” Paj said, his eyes still pinned to the ravaged sails.
The look on his face mirrored the ones down on the dock. It was a death sentence. The cost of an entirely new set of sails would empty the coffers
and the time it took to repair them would put them even further behind on their route. They’d lose even more coin than what they’d lost in inventory in the storm. For a wealthy trader with many ships, it would be a hit. For a crew like the Marigold, it would sink their entire outfit.
Hamish’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of red as he fidgeted with his book, his thumb skimming the pages back and forth. There was no way to calculate, argue, or sidestep out of this one. Zola had gone in for the kill, swift and precise.
Willa went to the railing, her face afire. Three bays over, Zola was standing on the deck of the Luna, his gaze cast upon us.
“I’m going to kill him. I’m going to cut him open and break his bones with my bare hands while he’s still alive and breathing,” she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“He told me,” I said, remembering Zola in the haze of the night before. “What?” Hamish and the others came to stand beside us.
“Last night, he told me the Marigold wouldn’t be sailing much longer.” Willa gritted her teeth, the blood draining from her face.
And that wasn’t all he’d said.
Don’t think the Marigold will be on its feet much longer. Neither will its helmsman.
The wind suddenly turned cold, twisting and turning around us on the empty deck until I was wrapping my arms around myself.
Neither will its helmsman …
The same thought seemed to bleed into all of them in the same moment, their faces shifting almost in unison.
Willa’s eyes suddenly went wide, filled with terror. “Where the hell is West?”
