collar. It sat in the center of my palm, glinting in the sunlight. We were well out of the Narrows, and I could feel the distance like a taut string between me and the Marigold.
I pushed the air from my chest, the amber light of West’s quarters illuminating in the back of my mind. He tasted like rye and sea wind, and the sound that woke in his chest when my fingertips dragged over his ribs made that night come back to life inside of me.
My breath hitched as I pulled it in and I tipped my head back, taking a last sip of air. And before the thought of him could curl like a fist in my chest, I dove.
SIX
The deck of the Luna shimmered with moonlight as we stood shoulder to shoulder in the wind, dripping seawater. Clove was perched on a stool with our hauls organized before him, weighing the stones one at a time and calling out the weights to Zola’s coin master, who recorded them in the ledger opened over his lap.
Clove set a raw, bulbous piece of garnet onto the brass scale, leaning forward and squinting to read the dial by lantern light. “Half.”
Beside me, Koy let out a satisfied grunt.
I wasn’t surprised at his haul. I had often wondered if he’d been taught by a gem sage because he knew how to read the shape of the rock beneath the coral and how to find the crests with the most concentrated stones. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t become a better dredger by watching him on the reefs. But when he started his ferrying business to the barrier islands nearly two years ago, he hadn’t needed to dive like the rest of us.
Ryland shook his head bitterly, his jaw clenched. His haul hadn’t even registered in the top five. Neither had Wick’s. No wonder Zola was looking for a new dredger the day I met him in Dern.
Koy had hit over seven carats and he’d probably do it again tomorrow. He was stronger than me and could hit the mallet in heavier strikes, which meant he needed fewer descents to loose the gems. And I wasn’t complaining. He could have the extra coin for all I cared. The sooner we got the haul up, the sooner I could get back to the Narrows and find the Marigold.
“Get your gear dry. Supper’s up.” Clove stood from the stool, handing the scale to the coin master. “Fable.” He said my name without looking at me, but his chin tipped up to the archway, signaling me to follow.
I slung my belt over my shoulder as I followed him into the wide breezeway. It was twice the size of the one on the Marigold. Work benches were bolted to the deck and walls, where three strykers were cleaning fish. The smell was washed clean by the smoky air pouring out of the helmsman’s quarters.
Inside, Zola sat at his desk over a stack of maps, not bothering to look up when Clove set the ledger down before him. The fragrant scent of the mullein in his pipe hovered in the rafters above us, swirling in the turn of air. The sight almost made me feel as if Saint was there in the cabin with us.
Zola finished what he was writing before he set down the quill and began to read the coin master’s ledgers. “So?” he asked, glancing up at me from the page.
I stared at him. “So?”
“I need a report on the dive.” His chair creaked as he leaned back, taking the pipe from where it was clenched in his teeth. He held it before him, and the leaves smoldered in the chamber, sending another weak stream of smoke into the air.
“It’s right there.” The words thinned as my eyes landed on the open book.
He smirked. “You led the dive.” He slid the ledger toward me. “I want to hear it from you.”
I looked to Clove, unsure what Zola wanted. But he only stared at me as if he was waiting for the same answer. I pulled in a long breath through gritted teeth, taking the few steps between me and the desk before I let my belt slide from my shoulder. It landed on the floor hard, the tools clattering together.
“Fine.” I picked up the ledger, holding it before me. “Twenty-four carats emerald, thirty-two carats tourmaline, twenty-one carats garnet. Twenty-five and one-half green abalone, thirty-six carats quartz, and twenty-eight carats bloodstone. There are also