Namesake E-Book

Adrienne Young

• Herausgeber: Titan Books
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 431

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

The brand-new thrilling novel from New York Times best-selling author of Sky in the Deep Adrienne Young, the second book in the fantastic Fable duology. Trader. Fighter. Survivor. With the Marigold ship free of her father, Fable and its crew were set to start over. That freedom is short-lived when she becomes a pawn in a notorious thug's scheme. In order to get to her intended destination she must help him to secure a partnership with Holland, a powerful gem trader who is more than she seems. As Fable descends deeper into a world of betrayal and deception, she learns that the secrets her mother took to her grave are now putting the people Fable cares about in danger. If Fable is going to save them then she must risk everything, including the boy she loves and the home she has finally found.

Leseprobe

Contents

Cover

Also by Adrienne Young and Available from Titan Books

Title Page

Leave us a Review

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Nine

Thirty

Thirty-One

Thirty-Two

Thirty-Three

Thirty-Four

Thirty-Five

Thirty-Six

Thirty-Seven

Thirty-Eight

Thirty-Nine

Forty

Forty-One

Forty-Two

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Also Available from Titan Books

ALSO BY ADRIENNE YOUNGAND AVAILABLE FROM TITAN BOOKS

Sky in the Deep

The Girl the Sea Gave Back

Fable

ADRIENNE YOUNG

TITAN BOOKS

LEAVE US A REVIEW

We hope you enjoy this book – if you did we would really appreciate it if you can write a short review. Your ratings really make a difference for the authors, helping the books you love reach more people.

You can rate this book, or leave a short review here:

Amazon.co.uk,

Goodreads,

Waterstones,

or your preferred retailer.

Namesake

Print edition ISBN: 9781789094572

E-book edition ISBN: 9781789094589

FairyLoot edition ISBN: 9781789099089

Published by Titan Books

A division of Titan Publishing Group Ltd.

144 Southwark Street, London SE1 0UP

www.titanbooks.com

First Titan edition: June 2021

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Copyright © 2021 Adrienne Young. All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

FOR MOM

WHO TAUGHT ME STRENGTH.

PROLOGUE

My first dive was followed by my first drink of rye. The sea was filled with the sound of gemstones as I swam after my mother’s silhouette, toward the puddle of light rippling on the surface of the water.

My legs burned, kicking against the weight of the dredging belt, but Isolde had insisted I wear it even on my first descent to the reefs. I grimaced, my heart racing in my aching chest, and I surfaced beneath a light-filled sky.

The first thing I saw when my eyes focused was my father peering over the portside of the Lark, leaning onto the rail with his elbows. He was wearing one of his rare smiles. One that made his blue eyes flash like the strike of flint.

My mother dragged me through the water, lifting me up to catch the lowest rung of the ladder, and I climbed, trembling with cold. Saint was waiting at the top, sweeping me into his arms as soon as I came over the side. Then he was carrying me across the deck, seawater dripping from my hands and my hair.

We ducked into the helmsman’s quarters and Saint pulled the quilt from his bed, wrapping me in the smell of spiced mullein. My mother was coming through the door a moment later, and I watched as my father filled one of his emerald-green glasses with rye.

He set it down in the center of his desk and I picked it up, turning the glass so the sunlight fractured and glittered in its facets.

Saint waited, one side of his mustache lifted on a grin as I brought the glass to my lips and took the rye in one swallow. The burn bloomed in my throat, racing down to my stomach, and I hissed, trying to breathe through it.

My mother looked at me then, with something in her eyes I’d never seen before. A reverence. As if something marvelous and at the same time harrowing had just happened. She blinked, pulling me between her and Saint, and I burrowed in, their warmth instantly making me feel like a child again.

But I wasn’t on the Lark anymore.

ONE

The knock of a pulley hitting the deck made me blink, and suddenly the white-washed world around me came rushing back. Footsteps on wood. Shadows on the quarterdeck. The snap of rippling sails up the mainmast.

The pain in my head erupted as I squinted against the glare of sunlight and counted. The crew of the Luna was at least twenty, probably more with the Waterside strays on board. There had to be a hand or two belowdecks or tucked away into the helmsman’s quarters. I hadn’t seen Zola since I’d woken on his ship, the hours passing slowly as the sun fell down the western sky at an excruciating pace.

A door slammed in the passageway and the ache in my jaw woke as I clenched my teeth. Clove’s heavy steps crossed the deck as he walked to the helm. His rough hands found the spokes as his gaze set on the glowing horizon.

I hadn’t seen my father’s navigator since that day on Jeval four years ago when he and Saint pushed the tender boat out into the shallows and left me on the beach. But I knew his face. I’d know it anywhere because it was painted into almost every memory I had. Of the Lark. Of my parents. He was there, even in the oldest, most broken pieces of the past.

Clove hadn’t so much as looked at me since I’d first spotted him, but I could see in the way his chin stayed lifted, keeping his gaze drifting over my head, that he knew exactly who I was.

He had been my only family outside of my parents, and the night the Lark sank in Tempest Snare, he’d saved my life. But he’d also never looked back as he and my father sailed away from Jeval. And he’d never come back for me, either. When I found Saint in Ceros and he told me that Clove was gone, I’d imagined him as a pile of bones stacked on the silt in the deep of the Narrows. But here he was, navigator of the Luna.

He could feel my stare as I studied him, perhaps the same memory resurrecting itself from where he’d had it carefully buried. It kept his spine straight, his cool expression just the tiniest bit thin. But he wouldn’t look at me, and I didn’t know if that meant he was still the Clove I remembered or if he’d become something different. The distance between the two could mean my life.

A pair of boots stopped before the mast and I looked up into the face of a woman I’d seen that morning. Her cropped, straw-colored hair blew across her forehead as she set a bucket of water beside me and pulled the knife from her belt.

She crouched down and the sunlight glinted on the blade as she reached for my hands. I pulled away from her, but she jerked the ropes forward, fitting the cold iron knife against the raw skin at my wrist. She was cutting me loose.

I went still, watching the deck around us, my mind racing as I carefully slid my feet beneath me. Another yank of the knife and my hands were free. I held them out, my fingers trembling. As soon as her gaze dropped, I pulled in a sharp breath and launched myself forward. Her eyes went wide as I barreled into her, and she hit the deck hard, her head slamming into the wood. I pinned her weight to the coil of ropes against the starboard side and reached for the knife.

Footsteps rushed toward us as a deep voice sounded at my back. “Don’t. Let her get it out of her system.”

The crew froze and in the second I took to look over my shoulder, the woman rolled out from under me, catching my side with the heel of her boot. I growled, scrambling toward her until I had hold of her wrist. She tried to kick me as I slammed it into the iron crank that stowed the anchor. I could feel the small bones beneath her skin crack as I brought it down again harder, and the knife fell from her grip.

I climbed over her and snatched it up, spinning so that my back pressed against the railing. I lifted the shaking blade before me. All around us, there was only water. No land as far as I could see in any direction. My chest suddenly felt as if it was caving in, my heart sinking.

“Are you finished?”

The voice lifted again, and every head turned back to the passageway. The Luna’s helmsman stood with his hands in his pockets, looking not the least bit concerned by the sight of me standing over one of his crew with a knife in my hands.

Zola wove through the others with the same amusement that had shone in his eyes at the tavern in Ceros. His face was lit with a wry grin.

“I said clean her up, Calla.” His gaze fell to the woman at my feet.

She glared at me, furious under the attention of her crew. Her broken hand was cradled to her ribs, already swelling.

Zola took four slow steps before one hand left his pocket. He held it out to me, his chin jerking toward the knife. When I didn’t move, he smiled wider. A cold silence fell over the ship for just a moment before his other hand flew up, finding my throat. His fingers clamped down as he slammed me into the railing and squeezed until I couldn’t draw breath.

His weight drifted forward until I was leaning over the side of the ship and the toes of my boots lifted from the deck. I searched the heads behind him for Clove’s wild blond hair, but he wasn’t there. When I almost fell backward, I dropped the knife and it hit the deck with a sharp ping, skittering across the wood until it was out of reach.

Calla picked it up, sliding it back into her belt, and Zola’s hand instantly let me go. I dropped, collapsing into the ropes and choking on the air.

“Get her cleaned up,” he said again.

Zola looked at me for another moment before he turned on his heel. He strode past the others to the helm where Clove leaned into the wheel with the same indifferent expression cast over his face.

Calla yanked me up by my arm with her good hand and shoved me back toward the bow, where the bucket of water was still sitting beside the foremast. The crew went back to work as she pulled a rag from the back of her belt.

“Take those off.” She spat, looking at my clothes: “Now.”

My eyes trailed to the deckhands working behind her before I turned toward the bow and pulled my shirt over my head. Calla crouched beside me, rubbing the rag over a block of soap and drenching it in the bucket until it lathered. She held the cloth out to me impatiently, and I took it, ignoring the attention of the crew as I scrubbed the suds up over my arms. The dried blood turned the water pink before it rolled over my skin and dripped onto the deck at my feet.

The feel of my own skin brought back to life the memory of West in his quarters, his warmth pressing against mine. Tears smarted behind my eyes again, and I sniffed them back, trying to push the vision away before it could drown me. The smell of morning when I woke in his bed. The way his face looked in the gray light, and the feel of his breath on me.

I reached up to the hollow of my throat, remembering the ring I’d traded for at the gambit. His ring.

It was gone.

West had woken alone in his cabin. He’d probably waited at the bow, watching the harbor, and when I didn’t come, maybe he’d gone into Dern to find me.

I didn’t know if anyone had seen me dragged onto the Luna. If they had, it wasn’t likely they would ever tell a soul what they saw. For all West knew, I’d changed my mind. Paid for passage back to Ceros from some trader on the docks. But if I had, I’d have taken the coin from the haul, I reasoned, trying to carve out every other possibility except the one that I wanted to believe.

That West would look for me. That he’d come after me.

But if he did, that meant something even worse. I’d seen the shadow side of the Marigold’s helmsman, and it was dark. It was all flame and smoke.

You don’t know him.

The words Saint had spoken in the tavern that morning echoed within me.

Maybe West and the crew of the Marigold would cut their ties with Saint and with me. Set out to make their own way. Maybe I didn’t know West. Not really.

But I did know my father. And I knew what kind of games he played.

The saltwater stung against my skin as I scrubbed harder, and when I was finished, Calla was waiting with a new pair of trousers. I pulled them on and knotted the strings at the waist so they didn’t slide from my hips and she tossed me a clean shirt.

I raked my hair up into a knot as she looked me over and when she was satisfied, she turned to the passageway beneath the quarterdeck. She didn’t wait for me to follow, pushing past Clove to the helmsman’s quarters. But my steps halted when I stepped into his shadow and lifted my gaze, looking up at him through my lashes. The last bit of doubt I had that it was him disappeared as I studied his sun-leathered face. The storm of everything I wanted to say burned on my tongue and I swallowed down the desperate urge to scream.

Clove’s lips pursed beneath his mustache before he opened the log on the table beside him and ran a callused finger down the page. Maybe he was just as surprised to see me as I was to see him. Maybe we’d both been pulled into Zola’s war with West. What I couldn’t put together was how he could be here, crewing for the person my father hated more than anything.

He finished his entry and closed the book, his eyes going back to the horizon as he adjusted the wheel slightly. He was either too ashamed to look at me or afraid someone would see. I wasn’t sure which was worse. The Clove I knew would have cut Zola’s throat for putting his hands on me.

“Come on, dredger,” Calla called from the passageway, one hand holding the edge of an open door.

I let my gaze fall on Clove for the length of another breath before I followed, leaving him and the sunlight behind. I stepped into the cool dark, my boots hitting the wood planks in a steady rhythm despite the shaking that had settled in my limbs.

Behind me, the expanse of sea reached out in an endless blue. The only way off this ship was to find out what Zola wanted, but I had no cards to play. No sunken ship of gems to barter, no coin or secrets that would buy me out of the trouble I’d landed in. And even if the Marigold was coming for me, I was alone. The heaviness of the thought sank deep inside me, my fury the only thing keeping me from disappearing with it. I let it rise, filling my chest as I looked back once more to Clove.

It didn’t matter how he’d ended up on the Luna. There was no forgiveness in Saint’s heart for treachery like that. I couldn’t find any in mine, either. I had never felt so much of my father inside of me as in that moment, and instead of scaring me, it flooded me with a sense of steadying power. The tide-pull of strength anchored my feet as I remembered.

I wasn’t just some Jevali dredger or a pawn in Zola’s feud with West. I was Saint’s daughter. And before I left the Luna, every bastard on this crew was going to know it.

TWO

The door to the helmsman’s quarters was an ashen wood burned with the crest of the Luna. A crescent moon cradled by three curling stalks of rye. Calla pushed it open and the damp, stale smell of old paper and lamp oil encircled me as I followed her inside.

Dust-filled light cloaked the room in a veil, leaving its corners inked in shadow. The uneven color of the stain on the walls gave away the age of the ship. She was old and she was beautiful, the craftsmanship evident in every detail of the cabin.

The mostly empty space was only disrupted by satin-draped chairs gathered around a long table, where Zola sat at its head.

Silver trays filled with food and gilded candlesticks were neatly arranged down the center of the table. The light danced on glistening pheasant legs and roasted artichokes with blackened skins, piled haphazardly in an opulent feast.

Zola didn’t look up as he plucked a round of cheese from one of the bowls and set it onto the edge of his plate. I followed the flickering candlelight to a rusted chandelier that hung above him. It swayed on its hook over Zola’s head with a soft creak, most of the crystal baubles missing. The entire scene was a poor man’s attempt at majesty, though Zola didn’t seem embarrassed by it. That was the Narrows blood in his veins, his pride so thick he’d sooner choke on it than admit to his masquerade.

“I think I have yet to welcome you to the Luna, Fable.” Zola looked at me, his mouth set in a hard line.

I could still feel the sting on my skin where he’d had his hands around my throat only minutes ago.

“Sit.” He picked up the pearl-plated knife and fork on the table, cutting into the pheasant carefully. “And please, help yourself. You must be hungry.”

The wind coming through the open shutters caught the unrolled maps on his desk, and their worn edges fluttered to life. I glanced around the cabin, trying to find any clue to what he was up to. It was no different than any other helmsman’s quarters I’d seen. And Zola wasn’t giving anything away, watching me expectantly from over the candlesticks.

I dragged the chair at the other end of the table out roughly, letting the legs scrape against the floor, and sat down. He looked pleased, turning his attention back to his plate, and I averted my eyes when the juice of the pheasant began to pool in the center. The salty smell of the food was making the nausea wake inside me, but it was nothing to the hunger that would be in my belly after a few more days.

He stabbed a piece of meat with his fork, holding it before him as he glanced at Calla dismissively. She gave a nod before she ducked out of the quarters, closing the door behind her.

“I trust you’ve accepted that we’re too far from land to take your chances in the water.” He popped the bite of pheasant into his mouth and chewed.

The only thing I knew for sure was that we were sailing southwest. What I couldn’t figure out was where we were headed. Dern was the southernmost port in the Narrows.

“Where are we going?” I kept my voice even, my back straight.

“The Unnamed Sea.” He gave the answer too easily, as if it cost him nothing to do it, and that instantly put me on edge. But I couldn’t hide my surprise, and Zola looked pleased at the sight, stabbing a piece of cheese and twirling the fork in his fingers.

“You can’t go to the Unnamed Sea,” I said, setting my elbows onto the table and leaning forward.

He arched one eyebrow, taking his time to chew before he spoke. “So, people still tell that story, do they?”

I didn’t miss that he hadn’t corrected me. Zola was still a wanted man in those waters, and if I had to guess, he had no license to trade at the ports that lay beyond the Narrows.

“What are you thinking?” He smirked. He sounded as if he really wanted to know.

“I’m trying to figure out why this fight with West is more important to you than your own neck.”

His shoulders shook as his head tipped down, and just when I thought he was choking on the bite of cheese he’d shoved into his mouth, I realized he was laughing. Hysterically.

He hit the table with one hand, his eyes turning to slits as he leaned back into his chair. “Oh, Fable, you can’t be that stupid. This has nothing to do with West. Or that bastard he shadows for.” He dropped the knife and it clattered against the plate, making me flinch.

So, he did know that West worked for Saint. Maybe that’s what started the feud in the first place.

“That’s right. I know what the Marigold is. I’m not a fool.” His hands landed on the arms of the chair.

I stiffened, his relaxed manner making me feel as if there was some greater threat here that I couldn’t see. He was too calm. Too settled.

“This is about you.”

The prick of nerves lifted on my skin. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I know who you are, Fable.”

The words were faint. Only an echo in the ocean of panic that writhed in my gut. I stopped breathing, a feeling like twisting rope behind my ribs. He was right. I had been stupid. Zola knew I was Saint’s daughter because his navigator was one of three people in the Narrows who knew. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

If that was true, Clove hadn’t only betrayed Saint. He’d betrayed my mother, too. And that was something I had never thought Clove capable of.

“You really do look just like her. Isolde.”

The familiarity that hung in his voice as he spoke of my mother made my stomach sour. I’d hardly believed my father when he told me that Isolde worked on the Luna’s crew before Saint took her on. She’d never told me about those days, as if the time between when she left Bastian and joined up on the Lark had never existed.

Even then, he and my father had been enemies. The war between traders was one that never ended, but Zola had finally found a weapon that could turn the tide.

“How did you know?” I asked, watching him carefully.

“Are you going to pretend like you don’t know my navigator?” He matched my icy stare. “Saint has burned a lot of bridges, Fable. Revenge is a powerful motivator.”

I pulled in a slow breath, filling my aching chest with the damp air. A small part of me had wanted him to deny it. Some fractured piece of my mind was hoping that Clove hadn’t been the one to tell him.

“If you know who I am, then you know that Saint will kill you when he finds out about this,” I said, willing the words to be true.

Zola shrugged. “He won’t be my problem for much longer.” He sounded sure. “Which brings me to why you’re here. I need your help with something.” He sat back up, reaching for the bread and tearing a piece from the loaf.

I watched him slather a thick layer of butter onto the crust. “My help?”

He nodded. “That’s right. Then you can go back to that pathetic crew or whatever hole in Ceros you were planning to make a home of.”

What was so unsettling was that it sounded as if he meant it. There wasn’t even a shadow of deceit in the way he met my eyes.

My gaze went back to the window’s closed shutters, where slices of blue sea glowed through the slats. There was a deal to be made here. He needed me. “What do you want me to do?”

“It’s nothing you can’t handle.” He peeled back the petal of an artichoke slowly before scraping the flesh between his teeth. “You’re not going to eat?”

I leveled my eyes at him. I’d have to have my toes at the edge of death to accept a meal or anything else from anyone on this ship. “Do you always feed your prisoners from your own table?”

“You’re not a prisoner, Fable. I told you. I simply need your help.”

“You just kidnapped me and tied me to the mast of your ship.”

“I thought it best to let your fire die out a little before we talked.” The smile returned to his lips and he shook his head. “Like I said, just like her.” He gave another raspy laugh before he drained his glass of rye and slammed it down. “Calla!”

Footsteps sounded outside the door before it swung back open. She stood in the passageway, waiting.

“Calla will show you to your hammock in the crew’s cabin. If you need anything, you’ll ask her.”

“A hammock?” I looked between them, confused.

“You’ll be given your duties tomorrow and you’ll be expected to meet them without question. Those who don’t work on this ship don’t eat. They don’t usually make it back to shore, either,” Zola added, a frown breaking his lips.

I couldn’t tell if that look was madness or mirth. Maybe it was both. “I want my knife back.”

“You won’t need it,” he said, his mouth full. “The crew’s been instructed to leave you alone. As long as you’re on the Luna, you’re safe.”

“I want it back,” I repeated. “And the ring you took.”

Zola seemed to consider it as he picked up the linen napkin on the table and wiped the grease from his fingers. He stood from the ornately carved chair and went to his desk against the far wall, reaching into the neck of his shirt. A moment later, a gold chain surfaced from the collar and a black iron key swung in the air before he caught it in his palm. It clicked as he fit it into the lock of the drawer and slid it open. The ring glinted on the twine as he lifted it from inside and handed it to me.

He picked up the knife next, turning it over in his hand before he held it out. “I’ve seen that blade before.”

Because it was West’s knife. He’d given it to me before we got off the Marigold in Dern to trade the haul from the Lark. I took it from Zola, the pain in my throat expanding as I rubbed my thumb down the worn handle. The feel of him appeared like a wind blowing over the decks: there one second and gone the next as it slipped over the railing and ran out to sea.

Zola took hold of the door’s handle, waiting, and I tucked the knife into my belt before I stepped out into the shadow of the passageway.

“Come on,” Calla said, irritated.

She disappeared down the stairs that led belowdecks and I hesitated before I followed, looking back to the deck for Clove. But the helm was taken by someone else. He was gone.

The steps creaked as we came down into the belly of the ship and the air grew colder in the dim glow of the lanterns lining the hallway. Unlike the Marigold, it was only the main artery in a series of passages that snaked belowdecks to different rooms and sections of the cargo hold.

I stopped short as we passed one of the open doors, where a man was crouched over a set of tools, writing in a book. Picks, mallets, chisels. My brow creased as the newly fired steel gleamed in the darkness. They were dredging tools. And behind him, the cargo was black.

My eyes narrowed as I bit the inside of my cheek. The Luna was a ship made for large inventories, but her hull was empty. And it had to have been offloaded recently. When I’d seen the ship in Ceros, she was drifting heavy. Not only was Zola headed into the Unnamed Sea, he was going in empty-handed.

The man stilled when he felt my gaze on him and he looked up, eyes like broken shards of black tourmaline. He reached for the door, swinging it closed, and I clenched my hands into fists, my palms slick. Zola was right. I had no idea what he was up to.

Calla followed the narrow hallway all the way to the end, where a doorless passage opened to a dark room. I stepped inside, one hand instinctively drifting back toward my knife. Empty hammocks swung from thick timber beams over jackets and belts hung from the hooks on the walls. In the corner of the room, a sleeping man wrapped in quilted canvas snored, one hand dangling.

“You’re here.” Calla nodded to a lower hammock on the third row.

“This is the crew’s cabin,” I said.

She stared at me.

“I’m not crew.” The indignation in my voice sharpened the words. The idea of staying with the crew put my teeth on edge. I didn’t belong here. I never would.

“You are until Zola says otherwise.” The fact seemed to infuriate her. “He’s given strict orders that you’re to be left alone. But you should know . . .” Her voice lowered. “We know what you bastards did to Crane. And we won’t forget it.”

It wasn’t a warning. It was a threat.

I shifted on my feet, my hand tightening around the knife. If the crew knew I had been on the Marigold when West and the others murdered Crane, then I had as many enemies on this ship as people breathing.

Calla let the unsettling silence stretch between us before she disappeared back through the open doorway. I looked around me in the dark room, letting out a shaking breath. The sound of boots pounded overhead, and the ship tilted slightly as a gust of wind caught the sails, pulling the hammocks like needles on a compass.

The eerie quiet made me wrap my arms around myself and squeeze. I sank into one of the dark corners between trunks to get a wide view of the cabin while being hidden by the shadows. There was no getting off this ship until we made port, and there was no way to know exactly where we were headed. Or why.

That first day on the Marigold came rushing back to me, standing in the passageway with my hand pressed to the crest on the door. I had been a stranger in that place, but I’d come to belong there. And now everything within me ached for it. A flash of heat lit beneath my skin, the sting of tears gathering in my eyes. Because I’d been a fool. I’d let myself believe, even if it was just for a moment, that I was safe. That I’d found a home and a family. And in the time it took to draw a single breath, it was all torn away.

THREE

Beams of pale moonlight drifted across the wood plank floor throughout the night, creeping closer to me until the warmth of morning spilled through the deck overhead.

Zola had to have been telling the truth about the crew being ordered not to touch me. They hadn’t so much as looked in my direction as they came in and out of the cabin overnight, taking their rest hours in staggered shifts. Sometime in the dark hours I’d closed my eyes, West’s knife still clutched in my fist.

Voices in the passageway lifted me from the haze between waking and sleeping. The speed of the Luna dragged and I tensed as a blue glass bottle rolled across the floor beside me. I could feel the ship slow as I unfolded my legs and got to my feet.

The pounding of footsteps trailed above and I pressed myself to the wall, watching for any movement through the door. But there was only the sound of the wind coming down the passageway.

“Strike sails!” The booming sound of Clove’s voice made me flinch.

My stomach dropped as I watched shadows flit between the slats. We were making port.

He called out the orders one after the other, and more voices answered. When the ship groaned again, my feet slid on the damp wood and I reached out to catch myself on the bulkhead.

Either we’d picked up speed and made it out of the Narrows in a single night, or we were making a stop.

I stepped through the door, one hand to the wall as I watched the steps. Calla hadn’t told me to stay put in the cabin and Zola said I wasn’t a prisoner, but walking around the ship alone made me feel as if I were waiting for someone to stick a blade in my back.

The sunlight hit my face as I came up the stairs and I blinked furiously, trying to focus my eyes against its glare. Two crew members climbed each of the huge masts, taking up the downhauls in a locked rhythm until the sails were reefed.

I froze when I saw Clove at the helm, tucking myself into the mast’s shadow. My teeth clenched, a bitter fury covering every inch of my skin as I watched him. I had never imagined a world in which Clove could betray Saint. But the worst part was that she’d trusted him—my mother. She’d loved Clove like a brother and the thought that he could betray her was unfathomable. It was something that couldn’t exist.

Zola stood at the bow with his arms crossed over his chest, the collar of his jacket pulled up against the wind. But it was what lay beyond him that made me stop breathing altogether. I reached for the nearest railing, my mouth dropping open.

Jeval.

The island sat like a shining emerald in the brilliant blue sea. The barrier islands emerged from the churning waters below like blackened teeth, and the Luna drifted into the last bay of the crude docks as the sun peeked over the familiar rise in the distance.

The last time I’d seen the island, I’d been running for my life. I’d thrown myself at the mercy of the Marigold’s crew after four years of diving those reefs to survive. Every muscle in my body coiled tightly around my bones as we drifted closer.

A barefoot boy I recognized ran down the dock to secure the heaving lines as the Luna neared the outcropping. A deckhand climbed over the railing beside me, reaching for the ties that secured the ladder on the side of the ship, and tugged at their ends until the knots were free. It unrolled against the starboard side with a slap.

“What are we doing here?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

The man arched an eyebrow as he looked up at me, his gaze dragging over my face. But he didn’t answer. “Ryland! Wick!”

Two younger crew members came down from the quarterdeck, one tall and lanky with a fair mop of hair. The other one was broad and muscular, his dark hair shaved down to the scalp.

The deckhand dropped a crate before them and the rattle of steel made me flinch. It was filled with the dredging tools I’d seen last night. “Get these sorted.”

From the look of the belts around their waists, they were Zola’s dredgers. When he felt my attention on him, the dark-haired one looked up at me, his gaze like the hot burn of rye.

Jeval wasn’t a port. The only reason to come here was to offload small over-calculations in inventory. Maybe a crate of fresh eggs that didn’t sell in one of the port towns, or a few extra chickens the crew hadn’t eaten. And then there was pyre. But pyre wasn’t the kind of stone that attracted an outfit like Zola’s, and I’d never seen his crest on a ship here before.

If we were stopping in Jeval, Zola needed something else. Something he couldn’t get in the Narrows.

I followed the railing toward the bow, fitting myself behind the foremast so I could see the docks without being spotted by anyone who might recognize me. The other ships anchored in the meager harbor were all small vessels and, in the distance, I could see the little boats packed with bodies coming in from the island to trade, carving white trails in the water.

Only weeks ago, I would have been one of them, coming to the barrier islands when the Marigold made port to trade my pyre for coin. I woke with a pit in my stomach on those mornings, the smallest voice within me afraid that West wouldn’t be there when the mist cleared. But when I stood at the cliff overlooking the sea, the sails of the Marigold were there. They were always there.

Zola lifted a hand to clap Clove on the back before he went to the ladder and climbed down. Jeval didn’t have a harbor master, but Soren was the man to talk to when something was needed, and he already stood waiting at the mouth of the dock. His cloudy spectacles reflected the sunlight as he peered up at the Luna, and for a moment I thought his eyes landed on me.

He’d accused me of stealing on the docks more than once and he’d even made me repay a debt I didn’t owe with a week’s worth of fish. But his gaze drifted over the ship, leaving me as quickly as it had found me, and I remembered I wasn’t the girl who’d leapt for the ladder of the Marigold anymore. The one who’d begged and scraped to survive the years on Jeval so she could go searching for the man who didn’t want her. Now I was the girl who’d found her own way. And I also had something to lose.

My eyes landed on Zola as his boots hit the dock. Soren walked lazily toward the ladder, tipping his good ear up as Zola spoke. One bushy eyebrow lifted over the rim of his spectacles before he nodded.

The cargo hull was empty, so the only way Zola could be trading was in coin. But there wasn’t anything to buy on this island except fish, rope, and pyre. Nothing worth trading in the Unnamed Sea.

Soren left Zola standing at the edge of the walkway before he disappeared into the people crowded on the rickety wood planks. He shouldered back toward the other end, where the skiffs from the beach were slowing to drop barefoot dredgers to trade.

I watched Soren snake through the commotion until he disappeared behind a ship.

Around me, everyone was going about their duties, and from the look of it, not a single crew member was surprised by the stop at the dredger island. My eyes lifted to the mainmast and upper decks, where the deckhands were rolling out the storm sails. Not the ones used in the Narrows. These sails were crafted for the monster gales that haunted the Unnamed Sea.

Behind me, the water stretched out in a bottomless blue, all the way back to Dern. I knew how to survive on Jeval. If I got off the Luna, if I found a way to . . . my thoughts flicked from one to the other. If the Marigold was looking for me, they’d most likely be following Zola’s route back to Sowan. Eventually, they could end up in Jeval.

But there was still a part of me that wondered if the Marigold would cut their losses. They had the haul from the Lark. They could buy out from Saint and start their own trade. An even softer whisper sounded in the back of my mind.

Maybe they wouldn’t come looking at all.

I gritted my teeth, staring at the toes of my boots. I’d sworn that I’d never come back to Jeval, but maybe now it was the only chance I had at staying in the Narrows. My hands tightened on the railing and I peered over it to the water below. If I jumped, I could make it around the barrier islands faster than anyone on this ship. I could hide in the kelp forest at the cove. Eventually, they’d give up looking for me.

When the feeling of eyes on me crept over my skin, I looked over my shoulder. Clove stood on the other side of the helm, watching me as if he knew exactly what I was thinking. It was the first time his eyes had met mine and they didn’t waver. His stormy gaze was like the pull of the deep water beneath us.

My fingers slipped from the rail and I leaned into it, staring back. He was older. There were silver strands streaking his blond beard and his skin had lost some of its warm gold color beneath the tattoos covering his arms. But this was still Clove. Still the man that had sung me the old tavern songs as I fell asleep on the Lark. The one who’d taught me to pickpocket when we made port and bought me blood oranges on the docks in Dern.

Again, he seemed to read my thoughts, and his jaw ticked.

I was glad. In that moment, I had never hated anyone as much as I hated Clove. I’d never wanted so badly to see anyone dead. The muscles in his shoulders tensed as the words flit across my mind and I imagined him in that crate that West dropped into the black sea. I imagined his deep-throated scream. And the tug at the corner of my mouth filled my eyes with tears, my busted lip stinging.

The dead look in his eyes met mine for only another moment before he went back to work, disappearing beneath the archway that led to the helmsman’s quarters.

The burn behind my eyes was matched by the anger still boiling in my chest. If Clove had gone against Saint, then Zola was probably right. Clove wanted revenge for something, and he was using me to get it.

Voices shouted below and I turned back to the dock, where Soren had returned with a parchment. He unrolled it before Zola and he looked it over carefully. When he was finished, he took the feathered quill from Soren’s hand and signed. Beside him, a little boy dripped a pool of wax onto its corner and Zola pressed his merchant’s ring into it before it cooled. He was making a deal.

A moment later, a string of dredgers was lining up shoulder to shoulder behind them. My brow creased as I watched Zola walk down the row slowly, inspecting each of them. He stopped when he saw one of the younger ones hide a hand behind his back. Zola reached around him and yanked it free to reveal that the fingers on the boy’s right hand were bound in a bandage.

Zola dropped it before dismissing him, and the dredger’s place was taken by another who was waiting at the edge of the dock.

It wasn’t until that moment that I realized what he was doing. We weren’t stopping at Jeval for supplies or trade. Zola wasn’t here to buy pyre. He was here for dredgers.

“Make ready!” Clove shouted.

A deckhand shoved me back from the railing. “Out of the way,” he growled.

I moved around him, trying to see. But the crew was already lifting the anchor. Calla took the steps to the quarterdeck and I followed on her heel, watching over a stack of crates as Zola came back up over the side of the ship.

The dredgers from the docks spilled onto the deck behind him and the crew of the Luna stopped their work, every eye landing on the gold-skinned creatures climbing over the railing.

That’s why Zola needed me. He was headed for a dive. But he had at least two dredgers on his crew already, and I made three. There were at least eight Jevalis boarding the Luna, with even more coming up the ladder.

In the distance, the surface of the water roughened, the waves bristling as a cold north wind swept in from the sea. It sent a chill up my spine as the heaving lines were pulled up and I turned back to the deck. The last of the dredgers came up onto the ship and I froze when the sunlight hit a face I knew. One I’d feared almost every day I was on Jeval.

Koy stood almost a head taller than the other dredgers as he took his place in the line. And when his gaze fell on me, I could see the same wide look of recognition that I knew was in my own eyes.

My voice was hoarse, hollow on a long breath. “Shit.”

FOUR

I watched him.

Koy leaned against the crates secured along the stern, his gaze set on the full sails overhead. The Luna was already drifting from the barrier islands and Jeval was growing smaller behind us. Wherever we were headed, Zola wasn’t wasting any time.

Koy didn’t look up, but I knew he could feel my eyes on him. And I wanted him to.

The last time I’d seen Koy, he was tearing down the docks in the dark, screaming my name. I could still see the way he’d looked beneath the surface of the water, blood trailing in twisting streams. I don’t know what had made me jump back in after him. I’d asked myself that question a hundred times, and I didn’t have an answer that made any kind of sense. If it were me, Koy wouldn’t have hesitated to leave me to drown.

But even if I’d hated him, there was something I had understood about Koy from the start. He was a man willing to do whatever he had to. No matter what, and at any cost. And he’d made me a promise that night I first stood on the deck of the Marigold. That if I ever came back to Jeval, he’d tie me to the reef and leave my bones to be picked clean by the creatures who lived in the deep.

My gaze dragged over his form, measuring the height and weight of him. He had the advantage over me in almost every way, but I wasn’t going to turn my back or give him a single chance to keep that promise.

I didn’t blink until Clove came up the stairs with heavy steps, running both hands through his curling hair to rake it back from his face. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, and the familiar movement made the pain in my chest flicker back to life.

“Dredgers!” he called out.

The Jevalis lined up along the starboard side, where the dredgers from Zola’s crew, Ryland and Wick, stood waiting. The crates of tools were in their hands, and from the look on their faces, they didn’t like what was about to happen.

Koy slung his own belt over his shoulder, taking the place on the deck before Clove. That was just like Koy, finding the scariest bastard on the ship and making a point of showing them he wasn’t afraid. But when I looked up into Clove’s face, his attention was on me.

The steely glint in his eye was unwavering, making my insides feel like I was falling. “All of you,” he grunted.

I sucked in my bottom lip and bit down to keep it from trembling. In that single look, the years ticked back, making me instantly feel like I was that little girl on the Lark he’d chastised for tying a knot wrong. My expression hardened as I took a single step forward, putting me a few feet away from the end of the line.

“While you’re aboard this ship, you will not step out of line,” he crowed. “You will do as you’re told. You will keep your pockets empty.” He paused, giving each of the Jevalis a silent look before he continued. I’d seen Clove give a hundred speeches just like it on my father’s ship. It, too, was painfully familiar. “You will be given two supper rations a day while you are employed on the Luna, and you will be expected to keep your quarters clean.”

He was likely repeating the terms on the parchment in his hands—the one Zola signed with the harbor master—and there was no denying it was a generous deal. Two rations a day was decadent living for any Jevali on the deck beside me, and they’d likely be taking home more coin than most of them could earn in months.

“The first of you to break these rules will be swimming back to Jeval. Questions?”

“We stay together.” Koy was the first to speak, outlining his own terms. He was talking about their sleeping quarters and I suspected it was to ensure they didn’t become targets for the Luna’s crew. Dredgers were every man for himself on Jeval, but this was different. There was safety in numbers on this ship.

“Fine.” Clove nodded to Ryland and Wick, who looked like they were ready to pull their knives out. They stepped forward, each setting a crate down before the line. “Take what you need for a two-day dive. Consider it part of your payment.”

The dredgers lunged forward before Clove had even finished, crouching around the crates to fish out picks and press their callused fingertips to the sharp points. They rooted in the pile for chisels and eyeglasses to add to their belts, and Ryland and Wick watched, disgusted by the way they fumbled through the tools.

I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. Koy stood back behind the others, not taking his gaze off Zola’s dredgers. When they locked eyes, the silent tension that flooded the deck was palpable. I felt a shade more invisible then, thinking that maybe the presence of the Jevali dredgers was a good thing. It took the attention off me, if only a little.

“Fable.”

I stiffened, hearing my name spoken in Clove’s voice.

He took three slow steps toward me, and I drew back, my fingers finding the handle of West’s knife.

His boots stopped before mine and I watched the easy way he looked at me. The wrinkles around his eyes were deeper, his fair lashes like threads of gold. There was a scar I’d never seen before below his ear, wrapping around his throat and disappearing into his shirt. I tried not to wonder where it came from.

“We need to worry about any of them?” His chin jerked toward the dredgers on the deck.

I glowered at him, not sure I could believe that he was actually talking to me. What’s more, he wanted information, as if we were on the same side. “I guess you’ll find out, won’t you?”