Fable (Fable #1)(65)
“So, you’ve been with Paj a long time,” I said, looking ahead.
He knew my meaning. I wasn’t just asking how long they’d known each other. I was asking how long they’d loved each other.
A crooked smile twisted on his lips, his eyes meeting mine for a moment before he nodded. But then his hand absently went to the sleeve of his shirt, tugging it down over the tattoo on his arm and a shadow passed over his face.
Two intertwined snakes coiled together, each eating the other’s tail. It was the kind of mark that had meaning, and the symbol was one of infinity. Forever. But as far as I knew, Paj didn’t have one.
“The crew knows about you two?”
“They’re the only ones.”
And now I knew too. “That’s a long time to keep a secret.”
He shrugged. “You know how it is. It’s dangerous for people to know.”
The thought made me happy before it made me sad—the idea that you could find love in this world the way Saint and Isolde had. Even if you had to keep it hidden to protect the one you loved. When I was alone on Jeval, I’d thought many times that love was no more than folklore. And that my mother had only been able to give it flesh and bone because she wasn’t like the rest of us. She was mythic. Otherworldly. Isolde seemed connected to the sea in a way that no one else was, as if she belonged beneath the surface of it instead of up here, with us.
But in the next breath, I thought of West.
I hadn’t spoken to him since I shook his hand, agreeing to his conditions for taking me on. I’d dredge for the Marigold, but I was to keep my distance.
West said that Saint taught him everything he knew. That’s why he was dealing in debts and running side trade. Pocketing from the ledgers and dumping men in crates into the sea. There was a certain amount of darkness it took to live this life. Saint had always told me that, but I didn’t really learn it until Jeval. I’d done plenty of wicked things to survive on the island, but I couldn’t find it in me to feel badly about any of them. It was the way of things. Maybe that made me more like my father than I wanted to admit.
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.
THIRTY-THREE
Two days felt like twenty.
We kept our heads down in the city, drinking too much rye and sleeping late to avoid notice as Leo worked around the clock to finish the sails for the Marigold. But I could feel Zola’s eyes on us at the docks. He wasn’t stupid, and we weren’t rid of the Luna’s crew yet. They turned up at every tavern we drank at, their footsteps following ours on the bridges and in the alleyways.
He was waiting for our next move.
But no one could guess what was coming. In another two days, the Marigold would be anchored in Tempest Snare, and we’d be bringing in the haul that would buy us out of West’s debt to Saint. The crew would be free to scrape the crest off the floor of the helmsman’s quarters, and for the first time, the Marigold would be beholden to no one.
West holed up in his quarters, refusing to leave the ship while he healed, the injuries that Zola’s crew had left him with still covering almost every inch of him. The bruises had begun to yellow, the skin puckering along the stitches, but it would be weeks before he fully regained his strength.
Leo sat high on the mast, the striped silk scarf that was tied around his neck fluttering in the wind. Willa was perched beside him, holding the rolled sail in her arms. Since the moment the sun went down and the fog rolled in, they’d been working, Leo’s hands moving so fast at the riggings that it was difficult to even see what he was doing. When we told him he would have to fit the sails in the pitch-dark to keep from being seen, he looked excited by the added challenge. By the time the sun rose, we’d be out of the harbor and on our way to Tempest Snare.
The others were already waiting when I came into the helmsman’s quarters, the map Saint had given me clutched in my hands. West stood at the head of the desk and I didn’t miss the way he avoided meeting my eyes.
“Almost finished,” I said, closing the door behind me.
West looked to Hamish. “What else?”
He pushed the spectacles up his nose with the tip of his finger as he answered, “I’ve called in all our debts. It took one or two broken noses, but we’re paid up, and it should be enough to cover us until we can trade in Dern.”
“And the cargo?”
“Auster and I have offloaded everything we don’t need. We had to sell it at a loss, but by the time we meet back up with our merchants, we’ll be able to pay them. They never have to know what we lost in the storm or what we dumped here in Ceros.”
It had taken us an entire day to get everything out of the hull. The Marigold would have to ride lighter than ever before if we were going to get through Tempest Snare without sinking.
“Now, we just need to chart the course,” Paj said, eyeing the map in my hands.
I hesitated, for just a moment, feeling the weight of it baring down on top of me. The Lark was the only thing I had in the world. By giving it to West, I was putting my life in his hands. The thought made my stomach roil, the beat of my heart quickening.
Paj reached out, and I set the map into his hand before he unrolled it on top of the others scattered over the desk. “All right. Take us through it.”