as if he was thinking about lighting it. “That won’t happen, I’m afraid.”
“I’m sorry?” The surface of Holland’s flawless calm suddenly cracked.
Saint leaned forward to meet her eyes down the line of chairs. “You won’t have that merchant’s ring on your finger much longer. It would be a shame to waste parchment on a trade license.”
Holland squared her shoulders to him, fixing Saint with her murderous gaze. “You have got to be—”
“I’d like to submit a formal charge.” Saint stood back up, taking hold of the opening of his jacket with one hand.
A streak of bright red streaked up from his collar to his chin. Blood. It looked like he’d tried to wipe it clean. And I didn’t see a wound, which meant that it wasn’t his.
“Against Holland and her licensed gem trade operation.”
“And what is the charge?” the Gem Guild master from the Unnamed Sea screeched.
“Manufacturing and trading gem fakes,” Saint answered.
A collective gasp sucked the air out of the room, and the Gem Guild master from the Unnamed Sea sprang to his feet. “Sir, I hope you understand the gravity of this accusation.”
“I do,” Saint said with feigned formality. “Holland has been systematically leaking fake gemstones into the shipments for the Narrows, and I’d like to request the revocation of her merchant’s ring, as well as her license to trade in the Unnamed Sea.”
Holland was trembling beside me, so furious she had to reach out for the railing in front of her to keep from falling. “This is ridiculous! The accusation is false!”
“I assume you have proof?” the man at the end of the table asked, looking warily to Saint.
This wasn’t just bad for the trade. It was bad for the Unnamed Sea.
“You’ve already got it.” He flung a hand lazily to the tables. “You’re holding in your hands the same fakes she’s been leaking into the Narrows.”
The man set down his teacup and it clattered against the plate sharply. He looked at it as if it had bitten him. “You’re not serious.”
“You’re insane. There isn’t a single fake in those pieces!” Holland shouted, her eyes wild. She stumbled forward, catching herself on the arm of her chair. “Check them for yourself!”
The Gem Guild master from the Unnamed Sea poured the tea from her cup onto the ground, stepping to the nearest candle and holding it to the flame.
She inspected it carefully, turning it so the light moved in the stones. “Someone get me a gem lamp. Now!”
“While we’re waiting…” Saint sat on the corner of the table, kicking his leg. “I have another charge to present as well.”
“Another,” Holland seethed.
Saint gave a nod, pulling a piece of parchment from his jacket. “Six days ago, the Luna, flagship of Zola’s Ceros-posted trade operation, made port in Bastian. It hasn’t been seen since. Nor has its helmsman.”
Holland went still.
“The next night, he was murdered at the gala at Azimuth House.”
If there was an ounce of warmth left in the room, it was gone now.
“Last I checked, conspiracy to murder a fellow trader was an offense that requires the revocation of a trade license.”
That’s what he was doing. Covering his bases. Just in case the Roths didn’t come through and they’d put real gems in the tea sets. But Saint was taking a huge risk by making an accusation like that. There wasn’t a trader in the room that couldn’t accuse him of the same crime.
I froze, my eyes finding West in the crowd. That wasn’t true. Because Saint never did his own dirty work. He was never even present for it.
That’s why he’d had West.
“I’d like to submit the sworn statement of Zola’s navigator, who witnessed the death of his helmsman at the gala himself.”
A head of pale blond hair appeared from the crowd, and Clove stepped onto the platform. My mouth dropped open. They were going to take Holland down for the very plot they themselves orchestrated.
“Well?” the Gem Guild master from the Unnamed Sea snapped.
“It’s true,” Clove answered. “I saw it with my own eyes. Holland ordered the murder of Zola in her study. Then she pieced out and sank the Luna in Bastian’s bay.”
“He’s lying!” Holland screamed, panicked now. She shuffled down the steps to the platform, her skirts clutched and wrinkled in her hands. “They’ve worked this out together. Both of them.” Her voice disintegrated.
“No.” The word fell from my lips heavily, echoing. I’d spoken without even planning to. I was intoxicated by the show of it. By the sheer genius design of it all.