Chapters (51)
- Title Page
- Copyright Notice
- 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
- Also by Adrienne Young
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- Newsletter Sign-up
“I seem to remember you saying that you could find it. You insisted, really.” Her voice went flat and when her eyes drifted to West again, I swallowed hard, remembering Zola’s boots in the darkened doorway. The way they twitched. “We had a deal, Fable.” The threat was there in the deep tone that lifted beneath the words. “But I know how you can make it up to me.”
West stiffened beside me.
She opened one of the logs and slipped a folded parchment from inside. Gooseflesh rose on my arms as she opened it and slid it across the low table toward me. “The Trade Council meeting is in two days. You’ll be there. As my representative.”
I gaped at her. “Representing what?”
“My new trade route in the Narrows.”
I slid the parchment back to her without opening it. “I told you I wasn’t interested.”
“That was before I held the deed to the Marigold,” she said, sweetly.
She picked up the document and handed it to me. My hand trembled as I opened it and read the words.
“You’ll get it back when I have your signature on a two-year contract to head my new fleet.”
My lips parted, the sick feeling returning to my gut. “What?” But I already knew. She’d sent me on a fool’s errand with the midnight while she stacked the deck. She’d never counted on me finding it.
From the corner of my eye, I could see West taking a step toward me. Before I’d even finished reading, he snatched the contract from my fingers. I watched as his frantic gaze ran over the scripted writing. “She’s not signing anything,” West said, crumpling the parchment in his fist.
“She will,” Holland said, not a hint of question in her voice. “Sign the contract and you’ll get everything you want. The deed to the Marigold and an operation in the Narrows. The Marigold can even work for me, if you’d like.” She picked up the teacup, holding it before her. “If I pitch a Narrows-born trader as the head of my new route to Ceros, the Trade Council will concede.”
I tried to slow my breaths, holding onto the arm of the chair. “And Saint?”
“Saint is a problem that neither of us want to have. Trust me.” She took a sip of tea from the gold rim. “He’ll be taken care of by the time we’ve set up post in Ceros. Without him and Zola to contend with, I’ll be handing you the control of the gem trade in those waters.”
I looked to West, but he was staring at Holland, his murderous gaze like fire.