Thirty-Six

THIRTY-SIX

Leith Tavern sat at the end of Linden Street, bustling with people coming and going from the merchant’s house before the closing bell rang out over the village.

West kept watch while I looked through the window, searching for a head of dark, shorn hair. The worst thing that could happen was Holland finding out we were meeting with one of the Roths. If she did, we’d all find ourselves sunk in the harbor, blood or no blood.

If the Roths made good on the deal, it would destroy Holland’s operation in Bastian. It wasn’t only the Narrows-based traders who stood to benefit. Holland controlled more than the gem trade with her wealth, leaning on the guilds for whatever she needed because she was the only one with the power to return those kinds of favors. But she was also likely the main source of revenue for the Roths, and they stood to lose if she fell from her throne.

I could only hope that what they could gain would outweigh what they could lose.

“He’ll show,” West said, watching the way I fidgeted with the button on my jacket.

“I know,” I said coldly. But I wasn’t sure of anything, especially after what Saint had said about there being a fifty-fifty chance. His words gave me the same sinking feeling I had when sailing straight into a storm. I didn’t know if we were coming out the other side.

“Fable.” West waited for me to tear my eyes from the window and look at him.

But all I could think about was his name on Holland’s contract. How I hadn’t even seen it coming. West hadn’t just kept me in the dark. He’d played me. “Don’t,” I said, going back to the window.

The tables and booths inside were filled with people. I pressed my hand to the glass, searching for Ezra again.

West tugged on the sleeve of my jacket, his gaze pinned to the end of the alley, where four or five figures stood in the shadows.

“It’s him,” West said lowly.

I followed the wall of the tavern until I could make him out. Ezra watched me from beneath the hood of his jacket, his scarred hands the only bit of him visible. When I stopped before him, the others stepped out of the dark, lining up at his sides. Three other young men and one girl, none of their faces ones I recognized. The young boy Henrik had called Tru was with them, too. He was dressed in a fine jacket with a gold watch chain tucked into its pocket.

The man beside Ezra stepped into the light, revealing combed chestnut hair over a youthful face. He looked me up and down. The Roth tattoo peeked out from beneath his rolled shirt sleeve.

“Do you have it?” Ezra didn’t waste any time.

I pulled my hand from my jacket pocket, holding it before him so he could see the gem merchant’s ring on my middle finger.

He shook his head, half-laughing. “How the hell did you get that?”

“Does it matter?”

The brown-haired young man smirked. “I told Henrik there’s no way you’d come through.” He stepped forward, extending a hand. “Murrow. You must be Fable.”

I stared at it, not moving, and he dropped it to his side.

“That makes me wonder if you held up your end of the deal,” I said, trying to read his face.

But behind him, Ezra was expressionless, his features smooth. “I did. But I covered my bases.” A group of men came out of the tavern’s side door, and Ezra watched them from the corner of his eye.

I slipped the ring from my finger and dropped it into his palm. He immediately pulled a monocle from his jacket and fit it to his eye, shifting away from me so that he could check the gem set into the ring. When he was satisfied, he dropped it into his pocket.

“I kept my end of the deal. Now it’s your turn,” I said, my voice hardening. “How do I know you’ll do what you promised?”

Murrow grinned, a spark lighting his eyes. “Guess you’ll have to trust us.”

West moved beside me, and before I even realized what had happened, he had his hands around Tru’s throat, dragging him toward us.

“West!”

Ezra and Murrow already had their knives drawn. Ezra lunged forward and froze when West pressed the tip of his knife to Tru’s throat. The boy’s eyes were wide, his face draining of its color.

“What are you doing?” I rasped.

I set my hand on West’s arm. Despite his cool exterior, I could feel the heavy pulse under his skin. I wanted to believe that it was a bluff. That he wouldn’t hurt a child. But looking into his eyes now, I wasn’t sure. This was the West my father had hired. The one he’d relied on.

“Here’s the problem.” West’s face was smooth. Tru thrashed in his arms, his scream muffled by West’s hand over his mouth. “I don’t trust you.”

A drop of beryl-red blood trailed down Tru’s neck, staining the collar of his clean white shirt. I watched West’s eyes. They were empty.

“So you take the ring. And we’ll take the boy,” West said. “You’ll get him back tomorrow. After the Trade Council meeting.”

“You’re not going anywhere with him,” Ezra said. His eyes jumped from West to Tru. He looked afraid, and I remembered that with the exception of Ezra, the Roths were family.

But there was something strange about him. Different from the light in Henrik or Holland or Saint’s eyes. He looked genuinely worried for the boy, and I realized that Auster was right. Ezra was cut from a different cloth. So, why was he still with the Roths?

“You saw him that night, didn’t you?” I asked, the words almost a whisper.

Ezra looked confused. “Who?”

“Auster. You saw him that night, but you pretended not to.”

The answer was in the way his eyes narrowed. Whatever his reasons, he’d let Auster disappear when he left the Roths. I could only hope that even a shadow of the same loyalty might extend to all of us.

“I’ll deliver the commission tonight.” Ezra spoke through clenched teeth. “You hurt him, or ever mention a word about this to anyone, and the cost will find you.” The threat was clear in the words. “You don’t want to step foot in Henrik’s shadow. Understand?”

“I understand.” I nodded, feeling the truth of the words cut deep. I could see that some part of him liked the mischief at play, but he wasn’t going to go down for me with Henrik or with Holland, and he wasn’t going to sacrifice the boy on their altar.

“You’ll be fine.” Now Ezra was speaking to Tru.

He pulled up the collar of his jacket before he slipped back into the shadows with the others.

The boy’s eyes widened, and he let out a terrified whimper when he realized they’d really left. I took hold of his jacket and yanked him from West’s hands, wrapping my arms around him protectively. “What the hell are you doing?”

West slipped his knife back into his belt. “We needed leverage. I took it.”

I wiped the blood from Tru’s neck with the hem of my shirt. “Come on.” I put my arm around him and started walking. “You’re okay. We’re not going to hurt you.”

He didn’t look convinced, glancing over his shoulder to the dark alley where Ezra and Murrow had disappeared.

West followed on our heels, not looking the least bit phased. This was all so simple to him. Order the crew to Yuri’s Constellation. Lie about the deed. Sign the contract with Holland. Kidnap and threaten to kill a child.

What else is he willing to do?

Willa’s words echoed in tandem with my footsteps on the cobblestones.

Auster had warned us not to trust the Roths, but I’d still put all the power into their hands. Now, West had taken some of it back.