Page 63 of Saint
“We have now,” Clove said.
Still, Isolde’s eyes were on me. But I didn’t meet them. There was a threshold being crossed here and I wasn’t sure I knew where it would take me. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to know.
Daya reappeared with a fresh teacup and saucer, letting her eyes slide from me to Clove as she set it down before Isolde. Unlike Emilia, Daya knew how to hold her tongue. But that one look held everything she wasn’t saying—that seeing the two of us sharing a table with a face she’d never seen before was more than a little strange.
Clove slid the teapot toward Isolde as Daya shuffled away.
“Is that it?” Isolde said, eyeing the rolled parchment on the table beside him.
“That’s it,” he echoed.
Isolde poured the tea, but she didn’t touch it. “Congratulations.” The word was small. There had been a shift in her, and not just in the way she’d looked when she walkedthrough the door. The undertow of anger she always carried was missing now, replaced by something else I couldn’t put my finger on.
Clove tapped her with his elbow. “Don’t know how I feel about having a Saltblood on the crew though.”
She almost smiled then. Almost. I was beginning to be able to predict that look before it hit her face. I was beginning to get used to the feeling I had when I saw it.
“Figured I’d trade one rotten bastard for two,” she quipped, finally picking up her tea.
She held the cup like one ofthem,but that edge in her voice was Narrows through and through. I wondered, for the first time, if she’d simply been born on the wrong shore.
“May I?” She set a finger on the wrapped triangular parcel that sat beside my plate. The sail that Irva had given me with the license.
I nodded.
Clove draped one arm over the back of the booth so he could see over her shoulder. She tore one corner of the paper before peeling it down and the crisp white canvas almost glowed in the dim light. I watched as she carefully unwrapped it, letting the fabric fall open in her lap until she could see the entire crest. A wave curling over a triangular sail.
The tip of her finger traced it, her brow pulling. “It looks like—” Her words stopped, then started again. “It looks like it’s sinking.”
“It is,” I said.
Clove didn’t look at me, but I could see his posture change. I hadn’t shown it to him after I had the smith renderit, but it was the crest I’d submitted to the Council with our petition. And it held a meaning that only he and I knew.
“Isn’t it bad luck?” Isolde asked.
I shook my head once. “We’re not unlucky bastards.”
“Not anymore,” Clove murmured, making Isolde turn her head to look at him. But he smoothed it over, a gruff smile tilting his head to one side. “The sun’s down.” His eyes darted to the window. “Time to switch to rye.”
“Since when do you need the sun to go down to drink rye?” I asked.
Clove got to his feet. “True.”
Isolde stared at the crest for another moment before she refolded the sail and wrapped it, tucking it into the seat beside her.
“Griff!” Clove made his way to the bar.
“Your tea’s gone cold,” Isolde said, crossing her arms on the table.
I stared down into the cup. The grounds had pooled in the bottom, making it look black as tar. But I didn’t know what her observation meant. A way to ask me if there was something wrong, maybe. It was the same question I wanted to ask her. But I wouldn’t.
“So, you changed your mind.” I chanced a glance in her direction, but my gaze only made it as high as her shoulder.
Her spine straightened, her chin dipping down as she looked over the table. “If I’m going to join a crew, better one that isn’t trying to sell me to a gem merchant.”
“Zola knows what you are. That problem isn’t going to go away.”
“Then the better question might be why you decided to take me on. And don’t give me the answer you gave me on theRiven.Giving safe harbor to a runaway gem sage isn’t exactly the smartest way to launch a trade route.”
