“I didn’t plan to be a father. I didn’t want to be one. But the first time I held you in my hands, you were so small. I had never been so terrified of anything in my life. I feel like I’ve barely slept since the night you were born.”
I caught a tear at my chin.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I nodded, unable to make a sound. His hand unfolded on the table between us, reaching for me, but I didn’t take it. Instead, I wrapped my arms around myself tightly, leaning into him. I pressed my face into his coat like I did when I was little and his arms folded around me. I closed my eyes and the slide of hot tears fell down my cheeks. For him. For me. For Isolde.
There was no way to undo it. No amount of coin or power could turn time back to that night in Tempest Snare, or the day Isolde showed up, asking for a place on Saint’s crew. It was one long series of tragically beautiful knots that bound us together.
And the most heartbreaking of all was that somehow, after everything, by some stroke of darkness, I was still proud to be Saint’s daughter.
His chest rose and fell, his arm tightening around me before he let go. I wiped at my face, sniffing, as he reached into his pocket.
The shine of a silver chain sparkled in his fingers. My mother’s necklace.
“She would have wanted you to have it,” he said, his voice uneven.
I picked it up by the chain, letting the pendant fall into my hand. The green abalone sea dragon caught the light, turning into waves of blue and purple. I could feel her in it. The ghost of my mother filled the air.
“Are you sure?” I whispered.
“I’m sure.”
I closed my hand around it, and the resonant hum wrapped around me.
The harbor bell rang out as I dropped it into my pocket. “Time to go,” I said hoarsely. The crew would be waiting.
Saint poured another cup of tea. “You headed to Ceros?”
I nodded, standing. A smile found my lips. “See you there?”
He picked up the cup, staring into the tea. “See you there.”
I pushed through the door, pulling the collar of my jacket up against the cold morning. The village was already busy, the street filled with carts and open shop windows. I set my gaze on the water and walked, heading for the harbor.
When the reflection of violet skipped across the glass beside me, I stopped mid-stride, my gaze drawn across the street. Holland stood in the arched doorway of Wolfe & Engel, her sharp eyes on me. The white fur collar of her jacket blew in the wind, touching her jaw, the brilliant jewels hanging from her ears peeking out from beneath her hair.
She was still glamourous. Beautiful. Even if she’d lost her ring and her license, she still had her coin. She’d never want for anything, and something told me she’d find a way to get back her own bit of power in Bastian. Either way, she’d never have a stake in the Narrows.
She was as still as stone, unblinking, before she stepped inside.
When she looked over her shoulder, disappearing into the shop, I could have sworn I saw her smile.
FORTY-ONE
Sagsay Holm disappeared like the fog-cloaked memory of a dream.
I stood at the top of the foremast, tying off the lines as the wind filled the sails. They stretched against the blue sky in round arcs, the sound of the salty breeze on the canvas making me close my eyes. I pulled the air into my lungs and leaned into the mast, thinking I never wanted to leave this ship for as long as I lived.
When I looked down, West was standing on the deck, watching me. He was swallowed in gold, squinting against the light, and the wind tugged the shirt around his form in a way that made me want to disappear into his candlelit cabin with him.
I climbed down, landing on the hot deck with bare feet.
“You want to check them?” he asked, rolling up his sleeves.
“Yeah.”
He caught my hand when I stepped around him, drawing me back. As soon as I turned, he kissed me. One of his arms wrapped around my waist, and I leaned into him until he let me go. His fingers slipped from mine as I headed to the breezeway and I ducked into his cabin, where Hamish was sitting at West’s desk, two ledgers open