“I do,” Saint said with feigned formality. “Holland has been systematically leaking fake gemstones into the shipments for the Narrows, and I’d like to request the revocation of her merchant’s ring, as well as her license to trade in the Unnamed Sea.”

Holland was trembling beside me, so furious she had to reach out for the railing in front of her to keep from falling. “This is ridiculous! The accusation is false!”

“I assume you have proof?” the man at the end of the table asked, looking warily to Saint.

This wasn’t just bad for the trade. It was bad for the Unnamed Sea.

“You’ve already got it.” He flung a hand lazily to the tables. “You’re holding in your hands the same fakes she’s been leaking into the Narrows.”

The man set down his teacup and it clattered against the plate sharply. He looked at it as if it had bitten him. “You’re not serious.”

“You’re insane. There isn’t a single fake in those pieces!” Holland shouted, her eyes wild. She stumbled forward, catching herself on the arm of her chair. “Check them for yourself!”

The Gem Guild master from the Unnamed Sea poured the tea from her cup onto the ground, stepping to the nearest candle and holding it to the flame.

She inspected it carefully, turning it so the light moved in the stones. “Someone get me a gem lamp. Now!”

“While we’re waiting…” Saint sat on the corner of the table, kicking his leg. “I have another charge to present as well.”

“Another,” Holland seethed.

Saint gave a nod, pulling a piece of parchment from his jacket. “Six days ago, the Luna, flagship of Zola’s Ceros-posted trade operation, made port in Bastian. It hasn’t been seen since. Nor has its helmsman.”

Holland went still.

“The next night, he was murdered at the gala at Azimuth House.”

If there was an ounce of warmth left in the room, it was gone now.

“Last I checked, conspiracy to murder a fellow trader was an offense that requires the revocation of a trade license.”

That’s what he was doing. Covering his bases. Just in case the Roths didn’t come through and they’d put real gems in the tea sets. But Saint was taking a huge risk by making an accusation like that. There wasn’t a trader in the room that couldn’t accuse him of the same crime.

I froze, my eyes finding West in the crowd. That wasn’t true. Because Saint never did his own dirty work. He was never even present for it.

That’s why he’d had West.

“I’d like to submit the sworn statement of Zola’s navigator, who witnessed the death of his helmsman at the gala himself.”