Fable (Fable #1)(24)
If there was a stroke of luck to be had in this village, I’d just found it.
I started down the wall in the opposite direction, picking up my pace to head them off, and when I reached the next alley, I waited, watching for their shadows on the ground with my breath held in my chest. A simple grab, that’s all I needed, but it had been a long time since I’d done one and even longer since my late-night lessons with Clove.
Don’t hesitate, Fay. Not even for one second.
I could almost hear his rough, thundering voice. I had thought my father would be angry when he found out that Clove was teaching me to pickpocket, but I found out later that Saint was the one who’d asked him to do it. It was my mother who’d disapproved.
As soon as I could hear voices, I stepped out into the path, my eyes up on the rooftops, and I faltered backward, slamming into one of the women and knocking her sideways.
“Oh!” I caught her by the arms before she fell into the mud, and she looked up at me with wide eyes. “Please, let me help you.”
She steadied herself against me as I clumsily slipped the bracelet from her small wrist, and I bit down hard on my lip. It was a skill that needed practice, but I’d never had the guts to pickpocket on Jeval. Not when it could get me tied to the reef and left for dead. I looked up, sure that the woman had noticed the feel of my fingers at the clasp, but as soon as her eyes focused on me, she recoiled, her hands balling into fists at her chest and her mouth gaping open. “Don’t touch me!”
It took a moment for me to understand. I studied her face and looked down to my bare feet and ragged clothing. Both gave me away as a Jevali dredger, even if I wasn’t one by blood, and my busted lip told anyone who looked at me that I’d seen trouble in only the last few days.
The other woman wrapped one arm protectively around her, leading her away with a scowl on her face, and I bowed my head in an apology.
As soon as they were out of sight, I exhaled, trying to slow my erratic pulse. The gold bracelet shined as I turned it over in the light. It was maybe the only time looking like a Jevali would serve me well.
Another shadow moved in front of the window of the gambit’s shop before the door latch pinged, and I stilled when a figure appeared in the center of the alley. The light from the shop fell on a lock of golden hair peeking out from under a cap, and I sucked in another breath, my fingers closing over the bracelet.
West. He stood in the middle of the alley, his eyes on the closed door of the gambit’s shop. I slid myself down the wall and tucked myself behind the corner, my heart slamming in my chest again.
Before I could even turn to run, the shop door was swinging open and Willa came down the steps, stopping short when she saw him. His face was only half-painted in light, and he slid his hands into his pockets as the door closed behind her.
“How much?” His deep, even voice was sharp enough to cut through bone.
Willa smoothed the look of surprise on her face, coming down the steps to push past him, but he stepped in front of her.
“How much?” he said again.
I slunk back farther, watching them.
Willa turned to face him, squaring her shoulders to his though she was half his size. The lantern light deepened the color of her skin to a dark umber, making her bronze hair almost glow. “Stay out of it, West.”
He took the few steps between them and reached for her wrist, unwinding her arms and turning her around. She yelped as he lifted the hem of her shirt, checking her belt, and he stilled. The jewel-rimmed dagger she carried at her back was missing.
He pulled his knife from his own belt and started for the steps of the gambit, but she lunged forward, hooking her hands into his arm and pulling him back. “West, don’t,” she rasped, her eyes pleading. “Please, don’t.”
The knife was clutched so tightly in his hand that the light bounced off the blade as it shook. “How much did he give you for the dagger?”
“Twenty coppers.” Her voice was suddenly missing the anger I’d heard in her words only moments before. She sounded like a child.
West raked a hand over his face, sighing. “If you need something, you ask me, Willa.”
Her eyes were shining as she looked up at him, and even in the dark, I could see West’s jaw clenched tight. It suddenly dawned on me that there must be something between them. They didn’t spend much time together on the ship, but I could see its shadow in the way they looked at each other now. They were more than shipmates, and the realization made me bite the inside of my cheek. I was almost … angry, but the feeling was immediately replaced by humiliation. I didn’t like that I cared one way or the other.
“I owe you enough,” she whispered. Her cheek shined with a rolling tear and she reached up to wipe it away, careful to avoid the burn that was branded on her skin.
“I told you I’d take care of it.”
She stared at the muddy ground between them, her chin dipping down as if she was trying to breathe through the tears.
“When are you going to start trusting me, Willa?”
Her eyes snapped up then, filled with fire. “When you stop treating me like the Waterside stray you used to steal food for.”
He stepped back, as if the distance would ease the weight of her words. But it didn’t. They hung between them like the stench of a rotting corpse. Something never forgotten.
So Willa was telling the truth when she said they were Waterside strays. And she and West had known each other long before the Marigold.