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?”