“This is everything I’ve built over the last forty years.” Holland’s voice sounded behind me. “Everything Isolde left behind.”
The question was why. It was the same one I’d been asking myself since the moment the Luna drifted into port.
Bastian was beautiful. If there were slums, I had yet to see any. It was well known that there were more than enough jobs, and many people left the Narrows for apprenticeships and opportunities here. What had taken Isolde from the Unnamed Sea?
I looked back at West. He stood in the center of the aisle, his eyes moving over the huge pier.
“We shouldn’t be here,” he said suddenly. He ran a hand through his hair, raking it back from his face in a familiar movement that told me he was on edge. It wasn’t just Holland. Something else was bothering him.
The aisle opened to a long corridor, and Holland didn’t wait for us, walking with paced steps toward three men who stood before a doorway draped with thick velvet. Holland pulled the gloves from her hands and unbuttoned her cloak as she went inside. When Clove sank down into the leather chair beside the door, she glared at him.
The dark room illuminated as one of the men struck a long match and lit the candles along the walls. The space looked like a polished, more luxurious version of Saint’s post in The Pinch. Maps hung over the walls, red ink marking the edges of the land, and I resisted the urge to reach up and follow the trail of them with my fingers. They were diving maps.
“You’re a dredger,” Holland said, watching me study them. “Like your mother was.”
“I am.”
She half-laughed, shaking her head. “That’s not the only thing I didn’t understand about that girl.” Her voice quieted. “She was always restless. I don’t think there was anything in this world that could calm the sea inside of her.”
But I knew that wasn’t true. The Isolde I’d known had been steady, made of deep waters. Maybe Holland was telling the truth about her, but that was before Saint. That was before me.
I read the spines on the books that lined the shelves until my eyes landed on a glass case behind the desk. It was empty. A small satin cushion sat inside, behind an engraved plaque I couldn’t read.
Holland looked pleased with my interest. “Midnight,” she said, following my gaze to the case. She set one hand on top of it, tapping a ring against the glass.
I tipped my head to one side, eyeing her. Midnight was a stone that only existed in legend. And if she had one, she would have had it on display at the gala.
“She didn’t tell you that either?” Holland smirked.
“Tell me what?”
“The night Isolde disappeared, so did the midnight that was in this case.”
I crossed my arms, scowling. “My mother wasn’t a thief.”
“I never took her for one.” Holland sat in the plush chair, setting a hand on each arm. “Have you ever seen it? Midnight?”
She knew the answer. No one had. The little I knew about the stone was what I’d heard in the stories of superstitious deckhands and merchants.
“It’s quite a peculiar gem. An opaque black with violet inclusions,” she said. “It was discovered on a dive in Yuri’s Constellation.”
I knew the name from maps of the Unnamed Sea. It was a cluster of reefs.
“Isolde is the one who found it.”
My hands fell to my sides from where they were tucked into my elbows. Beside me, West was studying my face, looking for any evidence of its truth.
“That’s a lie. She would have told me.” My eyes went to Clove, who was being careful to stay inconspicuous. When he finally caught my eyes, his head tipped to one side.
It was true.
“Are you sure about that?” Holland pressed, “Every merchant worth their salt and both Trade Councils attended the unveiling at Azimuth House and every one of them would tell you it’s not myth.” Holland lifted her chin. “It would have changed everything. Taken the trade by storm. But a few days later, Isolde was gone. So was the midnight.”
I stared at her, unsure of what to say. There was accusation in her voice. Suspicion.
“I don’t know anything about midnight,” I answered.
“Hmm.” Holland pursed her lips.
I couldn’t tell if she believed me, but I wasn’t lying. I’d never once heard my mother mention it.
A knock at the door broke the silence between us and Holland’s tension unraveled.