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Four years on Jeval and this close to Ceros, I almost drowned on a dive for a single copper. But that was one of Saint’s rules.
Nothing is free.
He wasn’t just talking about food or passage or the clothes on your back. He was talking about respect. Safety. Protection. They were things no one owed you.
And one way or another, you always paid.
When I came back up the steps, West didn’t look at me, standing there in the flashing light. But he could feel me. It was in the way he turned just slightly away, his eyes on the deck where my feet were planted. Maybe he was ashamed of what he’d done. Or ashamed of not being ashamed. Maybe he imagined that I thought him a monster. And he would be right.
That proud, stubborn bastard had carved a map to the Lark into my skin. It was the intricate path through the graveyard where two hundred years of sunken ships were laid to rest.
I wrenched my arm away, my face on fire.
“You have everything you need to build your own life.”
He meant a life away from him. This wasn’t an inheritance. It wasn’t even a gift. It was a bribe to stay away. “Fine,” I choked. “I’ll go my own way. And if you think I’ll owe you anything…”
“You’re my daughter, Fable.”
I looked him in the eye, my voice seething with every drop of hatred that boiled within me. “I’m Isolde’s daughter.”
He’d built his trade from nothing, ship by ship, and even if he’d left me and betrayed me, there was still a small part of me that loved him. And I knew why. It was Isolde.
My mother had loved Saint with a love that could set fire to the sea.
It was a truth that made it hard to wish him dead. But after three glasses of rye, I thought, anything was possible.
Never, under any circumstances, reveal who or what matters to you.
I was taking a risk when I jumped into the water. I was showing my hand. That I didn’t just care about the Lark or joining a crew. I cared about West. And I was becoming less and less afraid of what he might do if he knew it.
“I like you, Fable. It was my idea to bring you on, and I’m glad you’re here.” Her voice dropped low. “I’m not saying I don’t want you to love him. I’m only saying that if you get him killed, I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep myself from cutting your throat.”
“And I think I’ve loved you since the first time we anchored in Jeval.” He grinned suddenly, staring at the floor, and a bit of red bloomed on his skin, creeping up out of the collar of his shirt.
“What?” The breath hitched in my chest.
But his smile turned sad. “I have thought about you every single day since that day. Maybe every hour. I’ve counted down the days to go back to the island, and I pushed us into storms I shouldn’t have because I didn’t want to not be there when you woke up. I didn’t want you to wait for me. Ever. Or to think I wasn’t coming back.” He paused. “I struck the deal with Saint because I wanted the ship, but I kept it because of you. When you got off the Marigold in Ceros and I didn’t know if I would ever see you again, I thought … I felt like I couldn’t breathe.”
And when he kissed me again, it was slow. It was pleading. The silence of the sea found us, my heartbeat quieting, and I painted each moment into my mind. The smell of him and the drag of his fingers down my back. The taste of salt when I kissed his shoulder and the slide of his lips down my throat.
Like light cast over the morning water, it became new. Every moment that lay ahead, like an uncharted sea.
This was a new beginning.
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