the light of the hall with saturated hues. The people gathered below reflected their brilliant shades, dressed in colorful, shining fabrics. Coats in the richest reds and golds and expertly draped frocks moved like bleeding ink across the mosaicked floor. I looked down to the toes of my shoes. Beneath my feet, chips of amethyst and rose quartz and celestine fit together in the shape of a flower.
“What is this place?” I whispered to Clove.
He spoke low beside me, his eyes scanning the room. “Holland’s home.”
“She lives here?”
My fingers curled into my silk skirts. Large candelabras were lit throughout the hall, where trays of sparkling glasses floated through the crowd on the fingers of servers dressed in white. The gala’s guests filled the room, encircling glass cases that were framed in brushed bronze. Inside the one nearest to us, a glimmer caught my eye.
I could feel the gemstone before I could see it. The deep reverberation of it woke in the center of my chest, my lips parting as I walked toward the case and leaned over the glass. It was a piece of red beryl almost as big as my hand.
“What the…” The words dissolved.
I’d never seen anything like it. The color was a pale red, its face cut into intricate facets so my reflection was broken into pieces on the stone. There was no telling what it was worth.
The hall was an exhibit of some kind, designed to showcase the expansive collection of gems. It looked like a museum.
“Find her,” Zola muttered, looking to Clove.
Clove met my eyes for a moment before he obeyed, shouldering through the people gathered between the next two cases.
Zola fell quiet, studying the room.
“You look nervous.” I folded my hands together behind my back, letting my head tip to one side.
He gave me a weak smile. “Do I?”
“Actually, you look terrified,” I said sweetly.
His jaw tightened as a silver tray appeared beside me. It was set with delicate etched glasses filled with a pale, bubbling liquid.
“Take one,” Zola said, plucking one up by the rim.
I untangled my fingers to reach up and take one of the drinks, giving it a sniff.
“It’s cava.” He grinned. “Saltbloods don’t drink rye.”
I took a sip, grimacing at the way it fizzed on my tongue. “When are you going to tell me what we’re doing here?”
“We’re waiting for the woman of the hour.” Zola rocked back onto his heels. “Should be any minute now.” I watched him gulp down the glass and reach for another.
The light cast his skin in a warm brown that made his face almost handsome, and I couldn’t help but think he didn’t look like a monster. Maybe that was why Isolde stepped onto the Luna that day. I wondered how long it took her to find out she was wrong.
“I want to ask you a question,” I said, cupping my hands around the narrow glass.
“Then ask it.”
I watched him carefully. “What were you to my mother?”
A twinkle lit in his eyes as he surveyed me. “Ah. That depends on who you ask.” His voice lowered conspiratorially. “A helmsman. A savior.” He paused. “A villain. Which version of the story do you want to hear?”
I took another long drink and the cava burned in my throat. “Why did she leave the Luna?”
“If she hadn’t gotten herself killed, you could ask her yourself,” he answered. “Though there’s no telling which tale she would have given you. I never should have trusted her.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Isolde didn’t just take her fate into her own hands when she left Bastian. She took mine too. Letting her onto my crew is the worst mistake I’ve ever made.”
My brow creased. Saint had said the same thing about her, but for different reasons.
“But tonight, I’m going to fix that. Thanks to you.”
There was some faint echo in the back of my mind, trying to string the words together. None of it made any sense. “How could my mother have anything to do with this?”
“Isolde is the reason Holland has had a bounty on my head all these years. She’s the reason I lost any chance I had at trading in the Unnamed Sea and the reason I haven’t been back since.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that when I helped Holland’s daughter escape Bastian, I fell out of her good graces.”
The silk of my dress pulled tight across my chest as I drew in a breath, my head swimming. “You’re lying,” I snapped.