Fable (Fable #1)(77)

They hovered over their plates, laughing between bites, and not ever using the finely engraved knives and spoons beside their plates. The sound of the wind grazed the drawn sails, and I looked down at my plate, picking at the buttery crust of a pie and putting a small bite into my mouth.

I wanted to stop time and stay there, with the sound of Hamish singing and the sight of Willa smiling. Auster wound his pale fingers into Paj’s before he brought his hand to his lips and kissed it. Side by side, they were coal and ash. Onyx and bone.

Willa pushed another filled glass toward me and looked up to the sail flying over the bow. The white canvas bearing the crest of the Marigold fluttered and curled in the soft wind.

“Why Marigold?” I asked, counting the points of the star. “Why is she named Marigold?”

Willa’s eyes flitted to West, who stiffened beside me. The others continued chewing, as if they didn’t hear the question.

“What do you think he’ll say? When you pay the debt?” Hamish changed the subject, looking at West over the greasy bone clutched in his hands.

“I don’t know.” West’s voice was rough with the weariness that pulled at his face as he stared into the candle flame. The saltwater from diving in the Snare had dried in his twisting hair.

We’d pulled it off. We’d made it to the Lark and filled the coffers with coin, but he was worried.

He was probably right to be. Saint would never see it coming, and there was no telling what he’d do. The man who was always three steps ahead would lose a shadow ship and an entire crew in the span of a moment that he hadn’t predicted. And there was nothing he hated more than losing control. The only thing we could count on was the fact that Saint was a man of his word. He’d cut the Marigold loose before he broke a deal, but he wouldn’t forget. And there would be a price to pay.

West drained his glass before he stood, and I watched him disappear down the ladder to the main deck.

The sound of the crew’s voices rang out over the quiet harbor, and the lanterns on the other ships went out one by one, leaving us with only the dim glow of our little candles until their flames were extinguished in the clear melted wax. Hamish picked over the goose carcass for the last of the meat, and Willa lay back, her arms stretched out around her like she was floating on the surface of the water. She looked up to the sky, and in another moment, her eyes were closed.

Hamish threw the last bone into the tray, getting to his feet. “I’ll take first watch.”

Paj and Auster climbed up into the netting of the jib, curling up together, and I followed Hamish down the ladder. Before us, Dern was silent, the smoke from the three chimneys of the tavern catching the moonlight as it rose up into the sky.

I stopped before the archway, where the light from West’s quarters was coming through his open door. His shadow was painted onto the deck, the angles of his face touching the wood planks beside my feet. I hesitated, one hand on the opening to the passageway, before I walked with quiet steps into the breezeway and peered inside.

He stood over his desk, an open bottle of rye and an empty glass on the parchment before him.

I knocked lightly, and he looked up, straightening when I pushed the door open.

“You’re worried,” I said, stepping into the light.

He stared at me for a long moment before he came around the desk to face me. “I am.”

“Saint made a deal, West. He’ll keep it.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Then what?”

He seemed to think about how to say it before he spoke. “Things are changing in the Narrows. In the end, it might be better to have him on our side.”

“But you’ll never be free.”

“I know,” he said softly, pushing his hands into his pockets. He suddenly looked so much younger. For a moment, I could see him running along the docks of Ceros like the children we’d seen in Waterside. “But also … I think I’ll always feel like I owe him. Even if I pay the debt.”

I tried not to look surprised by the admission, but I understood that feeling. We weren’t supposed to owe anyone anything, but that was just a lie we told to make ourselves feel safe. Really, we’d never been safe. And we never would be.

“Marigold was my sister,” he said suddenly, picking up the white stone that sat at the corner of his desk.

“What?” The word was only a breath.

“Willa and I had a sister named Marigold. She was four years old when she died, while I was out at sea.” His voice grew timid. Apprehensive.

“How? What happened?”

“Whatever sickness that kills off half the people on Waterside.” He leaned back onto the desk, his hands clamped down over the edge. “When Saint gave me the ship, he let me name her.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

That was what West meant when he said that Willa had better chances on a ship than in Waterside. It was the reason he’d risked both their lives hiding her in the cargo hold, hoping the helmsman would take her on.

The weight of the silence grew in the small room, making me feel like I was sinking into the floor. He wasn’t just telling me about his sister. There was something else beneath the words.

“I’ve pocketed on Saint’s ledgers from the first day I started sailing under his crest, but I’ve never lied to him.”