Page 129 of Caging Darling

This time, it’s the Nomad’s turn to sound annoyed. “Like I said, Darling. I’m afraid without all the information, you’re blissfully ignorant of the stakes.”

“Then enlighten me,” I say, finding myself bunching the tablecloth in my palm.

“I don’t have to,” he says, eyes flickering like an impudent child on a playground. “Because while you insist that not everyone has a price, you certainly do. That’s why there’s a bargain on the back of your neck. I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“Speaking of the bargain on my neck, it’s an urn,” I say, remembering how the witch who had strapped me to her table had commented on it. “What’s the significance?”

The Nomad flashes me a smile that’s all teeth.

“Why bother calling me in here?” I knock at the turkey with my fork. “Going to the trouble of making sure I enjoy my meal, if you’re not going to tell me anything of importance?”

“Because you’ve been forced to do plenty you didn’t want to do, it seems. I thought I’d give my best shot at convincing you.”

I snort. “You can’t claim you’re convincing me when you’re going to force me to do it anyway.”

The Nomad stares up at the starry night for a moment before he answers. “If you could change your tapestry, would you?”

I squirm in my chair, suddenly wondering if the Nomad was eavesdropping on my and Astor’s conversation in the crow’s nest. “That’s already been done for me.”

“Is that why you don’t want me taking Tink?” the Nomad asks, still examining the heavens. The stars sprinkle light over the balcony, across the Nomad’s face, giving him an almost wistful air. “You’re afraid I’ll be messing with her Fate as well?”

I don’t answer.

Finally, he turns his sharp blue eyes on me. “And what if I told you that by saving myself, I can save her, too?”

I pause a moment before answering. “Then I’d think you would have led with that if that were the case.”

The Nomad laughs softly, as if to himself. “You can’t blame a man for wishing to keep his cards close to his chest. There are details that are better kept from the ears of others, details that have a tendency to spread.”

“It’s not as though I have anyone to tell.”

The Nomad watches me for a moment, and all of a sudden, it’s me being examined, not the stars. Me being traced for patterns. Whether the goal is to ascertain the weather or the direction or the future, I can’t decipher from his gaze. The Nomad opens his mouth, just slightly, and leans forward. I can almost taste his secret on the air, the one he’s not ready to reveal.

I find myself leaning forward too, heart pounding against my chest.

But then chair legs scrape against the balcony floorboards, and the Nomad stands, straightening his coat. “I sense my efforts were in vain. I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

And before I can stop him, he’s gone.

CHAPTER 45

Astor, Peter, and I are in the Nomad’s office, the tension in the air palpable. The Nomad seems to be enjoying it.

It’s the morning of the day we’re to infiltrate Whittaker Manor. Whether it’s simply bad luck that this day coincides with my last day to fulfill the Nomad’s bargain is unclear.

I have my suspicions. Especially after how long we spent at port in a nearby town yesterday.

“Now, about the Whittaker family,” says the Nomad. “What do we know about them?”

“Franklin Whittaker is infamous, even among privateers,” says Astor. “He pays well for discretion, but even most privateers won’t take on his jobs.”

“Why not?” I ask.

Astor taps his foot, his forearm muscles bulging as he crosses his arms tighter. “Franklin was born into money, but he tripled his fortune exploiting the helpless.”

I narrow my brow, confused. “You mean trafficking?”

Astor gives me a look, and the Nomad says, “Come now. I believe Wendy Darling here has suffered enough in her life that she’s not going to wilt from hearing the truth.”

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