Fable (Fable #1)(80)

“You don’t understand anything.”

“Then explain it. Tell me!” I shouted, my voice echoing in the empty room. “I know you don’t know how to love me. I know you’re not built for it. But I thought you loved her. She would have hated you for leaving me on that rock. She would have cursed you.” A cry slipped from my chest, but I kept myself from slamming my fists into the table.

He stared into his tea, his body rigid. “I swore to your mother that I would keep you safe. There is nowhere more dangerous in this world for you than being with me.”

My fingers coiled around each other in my lap, and I turned to the window, unable to keep the tears from falling. I’d always wanted to hear him say he loved me. I’d wanted to hear the words so many times. But in that moment, I was suddenly frightened he would. I was terrified to know how badly they would hurt me. “You were wrong. About so many things. But most of all, you were wrong about me.” I breathed.

“What does that mean?”

“You said I wasn’t made for this world.” I spit his words back at him, the ones that had echoed over and over in my mind since the day he left me.

He smiled just enough for the wrinkles to appear around his eyes. “And I meant it.”

“How can you say that?” I glowered at him. “I’m here. I made it off Jeval. I found my own crew. I did that.”

“You don’t know him.”

I bristled, realizing he was talking about West.

“He’s not who you think he is.”

My jaw clenched, and I swallowed, uneasy. Because that wasn’t like Saint. There was a heavy truth to his voice that I didn’t want to hear.

He looked up then, his eyes meeting mine, and I thought I could see the glimmer of tears in them. “You were made for a far better world than this one, Fable,” he rasped. “I was young. I hadn’t learned the rules yet when Isolde came asking me to take her onto my crew.” The words turned to a whisper. “I loved her with a love that broke me.”

He brushed the tear from the corner of his eye, dropping his gaze back down to the table. I didn’t think about it before I reached across the knotted wood and covered his hand with mine. I knew what he meant because I’d seen it. Everyone had. Isolde was the wind and sea and sky of Saint’s world. She was the pattern of stars that he navigated by, the sum of all directions on his compass. And he was lost without her.

We sat there in the silence, watching the village come to life outside the window, and in the time it took us to finish our tea, everything felt like it did back then. The smell of mullein smoke on my father’s coat. The clink of glasses with a fire at our backs. And as the sun rose, so did the unspoken goodbye between us.

When we got back to Ceros, West would repay his debt and the Marigold would be ours.

I set my chin on my hand, twisting my fingers into my hair, and I looked at his face, memorizing every wrinkle. Every silver streak through his mustache. The way his eyes matched the blue of his coat so perfectly. I tucked the picture into my heart, no matter how badly it would make it ache.

The chair scraped over the stone floor as I stood, and I leaned down, kissing him on the top of his head. I wound my arms around his shoulders for the length of a breath, and two tears slipped down his rough cheeks, disappearing into his beard.

When I opened the door, I didn’t look back.

Because I knew I would never see my father again.





FORTY-TWO



The roof of the village gambit appeared at the end of the alley as I rounded the corner. It sat shrouded in the last of the morning mist, the sign that hung above the door reflecting the light.

I came up the steps, banging my fist on the window as the street behind me filled with carts on their way to the merchant’s house. When there was no answer, I peered through the grimy glass until the gambit appeared in the shadows. He hobbled toward the door, his eyes squinted against the light, and when he opened it, I pushed in.

“What the—” he grumbled.

I went straight for the cabinet in the back, sinking down onto my heels and looking inside. Rows of velvet-lined trays were stacked side by side, filled with silver chains and glittering baubles. But it wasn’t there.

“I traded you a gold ring for a jeweled dagger and a necklace the last time I was here.” I stood, going to the next case.

“Do you have any idea how many gold rings I have, girl?”

“This one was different. It had notches imprinted in the metal, all the way around.”

It wasn’t until I looked up that I realized the gambit was almost naked. His long shirt fell over his bare legs like a skirt. He huffed, making his way around the counter, and he pulled a black wooden box from another case. He dropped it on the counter before him and leaned into it, glaring at me.

I lifted the lid, and the light coming through the window fell on the shine of a hundred gold rings. Every size, some with stones, some without. I raked through them with my fingers until I saw it.

“There.” I held it up before me, turning it in the light. “How much?”

“Ten coppers if you get the hell out of here.”

I smirked, dropping the coins onto the counter. The bell chimed above me as I opened the door, and I went down the steps, pulling the leather string from where it was wound tightly around my hair. I slipped the ring onto it and tied it around my neck, clasping the jacket at the top.