Page 69 of Saint
I froze when I heard the familiar voice creeping up my spine all the way from across the room.
Zola.
The door fell closed, cutting out the sound of the street, and I turned on the stool to see him. His tall, lean frame was swallowed by his long black coat and its hem swayed over thefloor as he walked toward us. Not with the heavy steps of an angry man, like I might have expected. In fact, he looked like he was at ease.
Saint stood, dropping the rag on the counter and taking a purposeful step to place himself in front of me. He said nothing, but the silence that fell in the tavern spoke for itself. This wasn’t the polite call of a friendly rival.
Behind me, my fingertips were already finding the knife in my belt and Clove abandoned the wound, letting the sleeve of his shirt fall back down as he rose from the stool.
I watched over Saint’s shoulder as Zola lazily wove through the tables. There was nothing menacing in the look of him, no hint of outrage at seeing me. As if he’d found exactly what he’d come looking for. And there was no sign of Burke, the navigator who never left his side. I wondered if it was possible that Zola had come alone. It didn’t seem likely.
“You look surprised to see me.” Zola stopped a few paces away, but he wasn’t talking to me. He was looking at Saint. “Came in before first light and saw theRivenanchored. Thought I’d come find you so we could celebrate.”
Clove took a slow, threatening step in his direction, but Zola ignored him. He pulled a rolled parchment tied with a red satin ribbon from his jacket. The same one that Saint had been given from the Trade Council.
“I admit I was a little miffed when I heard you’d received your summons a day before me.”
The knife was at my side now, clutched in my fist.
“Also heard that theRivenhad shown up at port with a new dredger.” He shot me a look.
Saint said nothing, but I could imagine his mind was racing with the prospect of someone talking. Not Emilia, surely. So, who?
“Nothing loosens a tongue like a knife through the hand.” Zola grinned.
Lander,I realized. The merchant who’d tried to cheat Saint was taking revenge the only way he knew how. The only way he could.
Zola’s attention went to Griff, who still stood nervously behind the bar. “Come on, Griff. Not even going to offer me a cup of tea?”
Saint jerked his chin toward the kitchen door, where Daya was watching us through the small window, signaling that it was time for Griff to leave. He disappeared through it a moment later without protest and didn’t return.
“Seems I’ve misplaced some of my inventory,” Zola continued. “Just before you left Dern, which one might call quite a coincidence.”
“Lot of that goin’ around.” Clove leveled his gaze at him.
Zola smirked. He wasn’t even going to pretend to deny stealing the gems off theRiven.“I suppose that can happen when things are off the books.”
“What do you want, Zola?” Saint finally spoke, that deep, smooth calm lacing his voice.
Zola pulled out the chair at the table beside him and sat with his feet flat on the ground, his knees wide. He tapped the license against his knee. “I’d like you to return my dredger,” he said.
“Go ahead and ask her. If she wants to go back to theLuna,there’s nothing stopping her.” Still, Saint didn’t move from his spot in front of me.
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple.” He pulled another parchment from his jacket. This one was folded into a small rectangle and when I saw the blot of ink at one corner, I swallowed hard.
A lopsided grin surfaced on Zola’s lips. He opened it, holding it in the air. “We have a contract.”
Saint’s body stilled in front of me, his shoulders drawing down his back as Clove took the three steps to Zola and snatched the document from his fingers. His eyes skipped over the words written on the parchment before they raised to me. That one look made the last bit of warmth drain from my body.
“It’s true,” Zola said.
Clove didn’t contradict him.
“It’s not valid.” I stepped forward, taking the contract from Clove and tossing it onto the table.
“It became valid the moment I was given that license. Now every contract I have is governed by the Trade Council and its laws.”
I waited for Saint to correct him, but he said nothing. The muscle in his jaw clenched as he watched Zola from the top of his gaze.
