at the end of the passageway; the lantern in the crew’s cabin was lit, filling the crack in the door with light. I followed it, peering through the opening.
Willa was standing in front of her trunk with her dagger in her hands. She turned it slowly so that the gems caught the light.
I pushed the door open and sat in my hammock, letting my feet swing over the floor.
“I know,” she said unevenly. “I shouldn’t have done it like that.”
“You were angry.”
“It was still wrong.”
She set her tool belt inside the trunk and closed it before she sat on the lid, facing me. “I know this is awful, but I think part of me was glad when all this happened.” She closed her eyes. “Like I finally had a good reason.”
I understood what she meant. She’d been dreading telling West that she was leaving and when he went against the crew, she felt justified.
“I’m the one who’s selfish,” she whispered.
I kicked her gently in the knee with my foot. “You’re not selfish. You want to make your own life. West will understand that.”
“Maybe.” Willa was afraid. Of losing him. The same way he was afraid of losing her.
“What will you do?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I’ll probably get a job working for a shipwright or a smith. Maybe an apprenticeship.”
“Maybe you’ll build us a ship one day.” I grinned.
That made her smile.
We fell silent, listening to the hum of the sea around the hull. “It will be hard on him,” I said. “To be without you.”
Willa bit down onto her bottom lip, staring into the dark. “I know.”
I scooted to one side of the hammock, holding it open for her. She hesitated before she stood and climbed in beside me.
“You think he’ll forgive me?” she whispered.
I looked at her. “There’s nothing to forgive.”
After the Lark, Willa told me that this wasn’t the life she’d chosen. West had brought her onto a crew to keep her safe. But she wasn’t the little girl she’d been back then, when they were Waterside strays. It was time for her to make her own way.
THIRTY-TWO
I could feel West’s gaze on me as I stood at the bow, watching Sagsay Holm come into view.
The little village was aglow in the sunset, the redbrick buildings stacked like stones ready to topple. But my eyes were fixed on only one ship in the harbor. Dark stained wood and a bow carved into sea demons. Stretched across the jib was a square of wide white canvas bearing Holland’s crest.
The knot in my stomach had only tightened in the hours since we’d left Fable’s Skerry. I’d stood across the desk from my grandmother and told her I could find the midnight. I’d struck the deal on the toss of dice, and I’d lost.
If Clove reached Saint in time for him to get a merchant’s ring to barter, and the Roths actually made good on their promise, we could have a shot at sinking Holland. But that wouldn’t keep Saint from finding a rope around his neck. If there was anything my father was bad at, it was playing by other people’s rules. He was as much a wild card as Henrik was.
I took up the heaving lines and threw them out as we neared the dock. The loop caught the farthest post as the harbor master came down the wood plank walkway, his attention on the parchments in his hands. He scribbled the quill from left to right, not bothering to glance up until West was coming down the ladder.
He looked up from beneath the rim of his hat when West’s boots hit the dock. “Marigold?”
West’s gaze instantly turned suspicious. “Yeah.”
“Holland’s waiting for you on the Seadragon.” He glanced to our crest and made a mark on the parchment. His eyes raked over West top to bottom, but he didn’t say whatever it was he was thinking. “Wouldn’t keep her waiting if I were you.”
West looked up to me, and I let out a long breath before I climbed over the rail and took the ladder down.
“I’ll get the deed back, West.”
He looked worried. Afraid, even. “It’s just a ship, Fable.”
I smiled sadly, my head tipping to one side. “I thought we weren’t lying to each other.”
The corner of his mouth twitched.
“I still have cards to play. I still have my share of the Lark’s haul and—”
“We still have cards to play,” he corrected. “And so does Saint.”
I nodded, dropping my eyes to the ground. Not for the first time,