I’d broken my promise to him, but I was still living by Saint’s rules.
Dawn swelled behind the land as I stood between two buildings, watching the bridge. If I was right, Saint’s boots would be knocking on the wood planks any moment as he made his way to Griff’s tavern. When I was a girl, if we weren’t out to sea, he took tea at Griff’s every single morning before the sun rose.
I’d thought maybe Saint had changed in the years since I’d last seen him. But if he was still the same ruthless trader who cut the knees out from everyone around him so that he stood taller, then maybe he was still the same bastard who took tea at Griff’s before sunup.
The distant sound of footsteps made me look up to the only bridge that led out of the Pinch. Even though they were empty at this time of morning, Saint didn’t like to walk in the muck of the streets.
A shadowed figure moved against the dark sky, and I could tell by the way his coat rippled in the wind that it was him. I stood up off the crate I was sitting on and stepped onto the street below, following. He took the same turns he always did, heading to Waterside, and I walked with my hands tucked into my pockets, watching the shape of him slip over the buildings as he passed. That was like Saint too—casting his shadow on everything around him.
When he started down the ladder near the harbor, I pressed myself against the wall of the nearest building and waited, holding my breath. The pale light made his coat glow like the blue coral snakes that slithered over the east reef of Jeval. His boots hit the ground, and he started down the alley just as the lanterns of the city were flickering to life. The street would
be busy with dock workers and bakers in a matter of minutes, the wheels of Ceros starting to turn.
I waited for him to disappear around the corner before I followed, keeping my footsteps light. The sign for Griff’s tavern hung out over the alley, the words scratched off by the brunt of sea winds. But I knew the place. The block stone walls were framed in by huge timber beams, the roof so steeply slanted that even the birds couldn’t land on it.
Saint disappeared through the door, and I stopped in front of the window, watching him. The place was empty except for Griff standing behind the counter, tying a cloth around his waist. He didn’t bother looking up as Saint slid a chair back from a table and took a seat.
A woman appeared from the back, a tray of tea in her hands, and she set it down carefully, arranging the pot at the corner of Saint’s table as he pulled a roll of parchments from his coat. The teacup looked tiny in his hand as he took a sip, his attention on the pages.
I put my hand on the latch, steadying myself before I pushed the door open.
Griff glanced up from the counter and the woman reappeared in the doorway, both of them startled. But it was Saint’s gaze that fell heaviest on me. He looked up from his teacup, his thick brows arched over his bright blue eyes.
“Morning.” I gave a nod to the woman. “I’ll take a pot of tea, please.”
She looked to Griff, as if to get permission before she moved, and he nodded, clearly suspicious of me. But his eyes widened as I took the chair opposite Saint, sitting before him with my hands folded on the table.
“What are you doing here?” Saint’s gaze fell back to the parchment, but the way he shifted in his seat told me that I’d surprised him.
“Ledgers?” I leaned over them, feigning interest.
“That’s right. Two ships came in late last night.” He picked the cup back up, and a ring of tea was left on the corner of the parchment. “What do you want?”
“I want to have tea with my father.” I smiled, my voice dropping to a whisper.
But every muscle in Saint’s body tensed, his hand gripping the cup so tightly that it looked as if it might shatter between his fingers. His eyes slid to meet mine as the woman set down a second pot of tea between us, rearranging the table to fit everything.
“Milk?” she asked. “Yes, please.”
“What about sugar, my dear?”
“Sure.” I looked to Saint. “I haven’t had sugar in years.”
He set his tea down a little too hard, and it sloshed out as I filled my own cup. The woman returned with a little dish of cream and a few sugar cubes in a linen napkin. Saint ignored me as I stirred them in.
“Did any of your ships get damaged in that storm a few days ago?” “Everyone’s ships were damaged in that storm,” he muttered. “Zola’s too?”
He dropped the parchment. “What do you know about Zola?”
“Nothing much, other than the fact that he’s got some kind of feud going on with that gem trader from the Unnamed Sea.” I watched him. “And the Marigold. I heard their sails got slashed.”
“The less you know about his business, the better.”
I picked up the teapot on his side of the table and refilled his cup. “You’ve got trouble with him too?”
“Your mother did,” he said, and my hands froze on the pot. “So, yes. I have trouble with him.”
“He knew her?” I took care not to say her name. The last thing I needed was for him to get angry.
“She dredged for him before I took her onto my crew.”
I stared at him, shocked at his candor. Saint always spoke in riddles, but he was giving me bits of information I hadn’t even asked for. It made sense that Isolde would have dredged for other crews before she worked for Saint, but she had never talked about the time between leaving Bastian and joining the crew on the Lark.
“What kind of trouble?”
He leaned over the table toward me. “It doesn’t matter.”
I gritted my teeth, resisting the urge to take hold of his lovely coat and scream.
You weren’t made for this world, Fable.
He didn’t think I could take care of myself. He’d given me the Lark, but he didn’t think I could make my own way. Not really.
I filled my lungs with the air that always seemed to hover around him. The proud, hardened demeanor that was always lit in his eyes. I pushed down the ache in the center of my chest that just wanted him to reach across the table and take my hand. The small, broken part of me that wished his eyes would lift from the parchments and look at me. Really look at me.
“When are you going to tell me why you came here?”
I took a sip of my tea, the sweet bitterness stinging my tongue. “I need some coin.”
“How much?” He didn’t sound the least bit interested. “Eight hundred coppers.”
That got his attention. He leaned back in his chair, smirking. “You want me to give you—”
“Of course not,” I interrupted. “That would break one of your rules. Nothing is free.” I recited it to him the way I had when I was a child. “I want to make a trade.”
His curiosity was piqued now. “A trade.” “That’s right.”
“And why do you need eight hundred coppers?”
“You told me to make my own way. That’s what I’m doing.”
He nodded, conceding. “And what could you possibly have that I would pay that much coin for?”
I reached into my jacket before I could change my mind, pulling the sea dragon from my pocket. I set it on the table between us, and even Saint couldn’t hide the shock that cracked through him in that moment. He turned to stone, his eyes widening as they fell on the necklace.
“Where did you get that?” he croaked.
I knew it was wrong. That there was something truly depraved about using my mother against him. And it was monstrous to leverage her most prized possession to barter. But the necklace had called me to it as I stood
before the mirror in Saint’s post, as if Isolde knew I would need it. For this very moment.
He picked it up carefully, the abalone sea dragon swinging beneath his fingers.
“That’s why you went back to the Lark,” I said. “You went back for her necklace.”
He didn’t answer. He’d had that pendant made for my mother in Bastian by a jeweler who made one-of-a-kind pieces. The abalone was rare, the unmistakable green of the kind that only came from the Unnamed Sea. She never took it off.
“So?” I looked up at him, tears burning in my eyes.
He closed his hand around the necklace before he dropped it into the breast pocket of his jacket. He cleared his throat. “Eight hundred coppers is fine.”
I held my hand out and he took it, shaking on the deal. He didn’t look up as I stood, and the sinking knowledge of what I’d just done settled within me. I knew what mattered to him, and I had used it against him. I had become the reason he needed his rules.
I turned my back before a single tear could fall. “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.”
