“I—” He stopped. He looked like he was unsure of what to say. Or how to say it. And that wasn’t Saint at all. He steeled himself before he turned back to face me, his eyes holding an entirely different truth. “I made her swear to never tell me.”

I leaned into the wall, letting it hold me up. She had told him about the midnight. But I wasn’t the only one who knew the fabric making up the man I called father. He’d known himself well enough to protect Isolde.

From himself.

The thought was so heartbreaking I had to look away from him, afraid of what I might see if I met his eyes. He was the only one who’d loved her more than I had. And the pain of losing her was fresh and sharp, knife-edged between us.

He cleared his throat before taking another puff on the pipe. “Are you going to tell me what your plan is?”

“Don’t trust me?” I found a smile on my lips, but it was still wavering with the threat of tears.

“I trust you.” His voice was quieter than I’d ever heard it. “Are you going to tell me why?”

I could see that he wanted to know. That he was struggling to understand. He’d been surprised when Clove showed up in Bastian with my message and he wanted to know why I’d do it. Why I’d risk anything for him, after everything he’d done.

I looked up, and the shape of him bent in the light. I gave him the real answer. The whole, naked truth of it. “Because I don’t want to lose you.”

There was no more to it, and no less. I hadn’t known it until that moment in the solarium, when Holland said his name. That I’d loved him with the same fire that I’d hated him. That if anything happened to Saint, a part of me would be taken with him.

His mouth twisted to one side before he gave a sharp nod, looking to the street. “You’ll be at the Trade Council meeting?”

I nodded, unable to get another word out.

The edge of his coat brushed against mine as he moved past me, and I watched him take the next turn, leaving me standing in the alley alone. The sea wind whipped around me and the lump in my throat ached as I took the narrow passage back the way I’d come.

Willa was waiting in front of the smith’s window when I came back out onto the street, a wrapped package in her arms. When she saw me, she sighed with relief. “Where were you?”

I waited for a man to pass us, lowering my voice. “Saint.”

“He’s here? Did he…?” she whispered.

I pulled the box from my pocket just enough to show her.

She gasped. “He did it?”