He arched an eyebrow, irritated. “He made it worth my while.” He tapped the silver box under his arm. “I’m using the coin to start a new fleet under Saint’s crest.”

“What? Why not strike out on your own?”

Clove laughed, shaking his head. “Would you want to be in competition with Saint?”

I wouldn’t. No one in their right mind would. This was a way for everyone to get what they wanted.

“I’d been trying to convince Zola to come back to Bastian for over a year, but he wasn’t interested. He was too afraid of Holland.”

“Until you used me as bait,” I muttered. “If Saint wanted to use me to get Zola to Holland, he knew where I was. He could have come to get me from Jeval any time.” Clove kept pace beside me, silent. “Why now?”

Clove glanced over his shoulder, looking to West again, and I stopped short, the skirts slipping from my fingers.

“So, I was right.” I glared at him. “This is about West.”

West looked between us, but he said nothing. He’d likely already been thinking the same thing.

Saint had been working against Zola for some time, but when he realized I’d used him to help West, he’d seen a way to solve not one problem, but two. He’d get Zola to Bastian and me off the Marigold.

“That bastard,” I growled, gritting my teeth.

West watched me from the corner of his eye, the muscle in his jaw ticking. Once, he’d said he’d never be free of Saint. I was beginning to wonder if he was right.

We took two more turns before we were standing at a wide set of doors that opened to an enormous solarium. Walls of glass rose to a ceiling that framed the blue sky, making the light so bright that I had to blink to let my eyes adjust.

At the very center of the room sat a decadently dressed round table, where Holland was waiting.

The belt around her waist was studded with trailing swirls of emerald, the same stone that hung from the gold chain around her neck. It caught the light as she faced the windows looking over the city, a teacup in her hand.

West studied her, an undecipherable question in his eyes.

Our escort stopped at the door, gesturing for us to enter, and I stepped into the room with West at my side, Clove trailing behind.

“Good morning,” Holland said, her eyes on the golden landscape before us. “Sit, please.”

The solarium was filled with plants, making the air warm and humid. Wide leaves and choking vines crawled up the windows, and blooms of every color were scattered along fronds and branches.

I reached for the chair but a young man appeared from behind us, pulling it out for me. I sat cautiously, taking in the contents of the table.