Adrienne Young

“I don’t belong to you.”

“Yes, you do.” He pulled the hair back out of my face so he could look at me. “Like I belong to you.”

In the dim candlelight of his quarters on the Lark, he’d watch me, one hand on his quill and the other on the green rye glass that sat on his desk.

Keep your knife where you can reach it.
Never, ever owe anyone anything.
Nothing is free.
Always construct a lie from a truth.
Never, under any circumstances, reveal what or who matters to you.

In the dim candlelight of his quarters on the Lark, he’d watch me, one hand on his quill and the other on the green rye glass that sat on his desk.

Keep your knife where you can reach it.
Never, ever owe anyone anything.
Nothing is free.
Always construct a lie from a truth.
Never, under any circumstances, reveal what or who matters to you.

It doesn’t matter why we’re here, West. We’re here. I need someone to trust with my life.”

His mouth pressed into a hard line.

“You don’t trust me, but I trust you.” My voice lowered.

“You have no reason to trust me.”

I crossed my arms, looking away from him. “You came back.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I sat on the cliffs above the beach on Jeval every night, imagining the sails of my father’s ship on the horizon. Hoping he’d come back for me.” I paused. “He didn’t—you did.”

He looked up then, his eyes meeting mine.

“I want to dredge for the Marigold. I want to get you out from under Saint.”

He leaned into the wall behind him, scratching the scruff at his jaw. “I never should have let you onto the Marigold in the first place.”

“What does this have to do with what happened on Jeval?”

“Everything.”

“You just told Saint that you gave me passage to save your own neck.”

“I took you off Jeval because I didn’t want to leave you there,” he breathed. “I couldn’t leave you there.” It was the first thing he’d said to me that had the heavy weight of truth in the words.

He was quiet for a long moment before he took a step toward me. “I’ll cast my vote to bring you on as our dredger.” The heat of him coiled around me. “If you tell me that you understand something.”

“What is it?”

His eyes ran over my face. “I can’t care about anyone else, Fable.”

His meaning filled the small bit of space between us, making me feel like the walls were creeping in. Because I knew why he’d said it. It was in the way his eyes dropped to my mouth sometimes when he looked at me. It was in the way his voice deepened just a little when he said my name. West was taking a different kind of risk by voting me onto his crew, and in this moment, he was letting me see it.

“Tell me you understand.” He held his hand out between us, waiting.

This wasn’t just an admission. This was a contract.

So, I met his eyes, not a single hitch in my voice as I took his hand into mine. “I understand.”

And though West had said again and again that he didn’t do favors and that he didn’t take chances, he’d done both. Over and over.

For me.

He launched himself up out of the water and grabbed my boot, pulling me back down. I kicked until the heel of my foot caught his jaw and he groaned, but he was already climbing. My elbows hooked into the ropes, and I grunted, trying to hold on against his weight as my fingers reached for my belt, but it was no use. I couldn’t get to my knife, and if I let go, I would fall.

A shadow fell from overhead and a body dropped through the air, splashing into the sea below us. When I looked down, West surfaced in the black water. He swam back toward the ship as the man wrenched me back by my shirt.

West climbed up the opposite side between the ship and the ladder, and when he was face-to-face with me, he reached around my waist, taking the knife from my belt. He swung his arm out wide, bringing the blade from the side, and sank
it into the man’s ribs. He screamed, his hands trying to grab ahold of me before he slipped, but West kicked him in the chest, sending him backward.

The ladder swung, and I pressed my face into the ropes, gulping air as my arms shook.

“Are you all right?” West reached through the ropes, pushing my hair back from my face and checking me over.

I leaned into the crate behind me, remembering what Willa said about not choosing this life. I wasn’t only buying West’s freedom with the Lark. I was buying hers too.

“I like you, Fable. It was my idea to bring you on, and I’m glad you’re here.” Her voice dropped low. “I’m not saying I don’t want you to love him. I’m only saying that if you get him killed, I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep myself from cutting your throat.”

West waited for me to give him a nod before he tilted his head back to take in the air, and I did the same, filling my belly first, then my chest, and taking a last hissing sip into my throat.