Page 33 of Saint
I pushed outside and welcomed the sting of the wind as it hit my face. I breathed it in deeply, trying to rid my lungs of the tight feeling I’d had as I stood in Saint’s quarters.
That look on his face was as beautiful as it was cold, and I didn’t like that I’d had to force myself to tear my eyes from his. I didn’t know if it was this ship or the sea or the strange look of the sky that made my blood hum in my veins. I hoped it was.
I hoped it was anything but him.
13SAINT
The wooden crates creaked, threatening to pop at the joints as the pulley lifted them from theRiven,and Ward, Sowan’s harbor master, guided the load onto the dock. Clove stood beside him, watching over his shoulder as he logged the inventory. Six crates of wool we had no claim to, but the coin from its sale would keep us sailing until we got back to Dern.
The look on Ward’s face as he scratched the numbers onto the page wasn’t a friendly one. He’d been much harder to keep in line than Gerik, and his patience was wearing thin. Where Gerik was all gruff talk and empty threats, Ward was genuinely unpredictable. It was a quality that worried me.
Doing favors and making friends didn’t serve anyone in the Narrows. There was always a bag of copper heavy enough to sway alliances, and Zola’s coffers had only grown in the months since the Trade Council was instated. If this wasn’tour last unsanctioned stop in Sowan, I wasn’t sure we’d be able to risk a return. Not when we had a gem sage on our ship.
Nash had stowed himself in the cargo hold, as agreed, and the two deckhands we’d brought from Dern were perched on the jib, watching the busy, narrow street that overlooked the harbor. We didn’t have the coin to pay someone on the docks to keep watch of theRiven,so there they would stay.
Isolde came up to the deck with her jacket buttoned up beneath her chin, and I couldn’t help but think the name suited her in a strange kind of way. It had felt both new and familiar as she said it.
Her eyes skimmed the ships in the harbor and I watched as her gaze stopped on a carrack four slips down. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and reached up, tucking the length of her dark red hair into her jacket.
“How long will we be here?” She looked nervous. Skittish, even.
“Just a night,” I answered, dropping the map case over my shoulder. “Long enough to offload those gems and pick up more rye from the crofter.”
“How do you know the merchant won’t spot the fakes?”
“He doesn’t need to. He knows what he’s buying.”
Her expression twisted into confusion. “Then why would he buy them?”
My gaze narrowed on her skeptically. She wasn’t Narrows-born, but she was a dredger. And that usually came with a wealth of knowledge in working with traders, their crews, and the merchants they sold to. It was a world that went handin hand with illicit trade, making it hard to believe she didn’t know how any of this worked.
The last crate came over the side and once it touched down, I swung myself over the railing, catching the ladder with my boots.
I climbed down and Isolde hesitated before she followed, jumping from the last rung and landing on both feet beside me. Ward was already glaring at me from the top of his spectacles, but I was eyeing the stack of parchment tucked behind his ledger.
“Messages?” This time, I was almost afraid of the answer.
“No,” Ward said, only half paying attention.
My hands curled into fists in my pockets, my eyes meeting Clove’s. It had been almost three months since we’d submitted the petition for our trade license and the longer we went without it, the longer we sailed without the Trade Council’s protection. We’d never needed it more than we did now.
Ward was far more concerned about the next crate of wool being lowered from theRiven.His crooked brow slanted even higher than usual.
“Since when do you transport wool?”
“Since now.” Clove’s words were an impatient warning.
There were plenty of people Ward could snitch to. The only thing we had going for us besides a bribe was the fact that Clove and I stood an entire head taller than him. Ward had the good sense to be afraid of us. That was all.
Ward’s eyes traveled to Isolde, who stood behind me, and I didn’t like the way they narrowed. There was no getting around the fact that she drew the eye. She was beautiful andshe very clearly did not belong with us. But the more she piqued curiosity, the more likely it was to get back to Zola.
Clove took a step toward him, drawing his gaze from Isolde. “Are you going to have it taken to the merchant’s house or do I need to find someone myself?”
Ward met Clove’s cold stare, hand tightening around the quill, before he shot a glance up the dock. A shrill whistle cut into the air as his head tipped back, and two men jogged up the slip.
“Merchant’s house,” he ordered, pushing past them without another word.
“I’ll deal with this. You get to Lander’s.” Clove’s head tilted in Isolde’s direction. “Probably shouldn’t take her into the merchant’s house.”
