The hall stayed silent after my last words. Blood was drying on my sleeve and his promise was still in my hand.
So I reached into my jacket one more time.
Dax: What is that. Put it down.
I set three ferry ledgers on the table between us. They were bound with cord and heavy with years.
Every river route I had planned. Every dock order I had written.
Dax: Nessa. Don't.
He said my name low, the way he used to when he wanted me to fold.
Two years ago that voice worked on me. Tonight it just made me tired.
I opened the first ledger.
I read the dates out loud. The north ferry run. The fish market contract. The winter haul.
My handwriting on every page. My numbers in every column.
Four years of river work, and his name on all of it.
Dax: She wrote nothing. She's a rejected mate with a grudge and a pile of paper.
Dax: Anyone can copy a ledger. Look at her. She warmed my bed a year and now she wants a medal.
His laugh was loud. His eyes were not.
I turned the page and showed them the dock orders.
His seal sat at the bottom of every one, pressed in red wax under my work.
The room made a sound like water moving over stones.
Dax: Get out of my way.
He came around the table fast and grabbed the ledger from my hands. He pulled, and the cord cut into my palm.
I held on.
Billie: Let go of her. Right now.
Billie was there with her gloves on and her red hair wild, standing between us like a fence post.
Dax: You want to back her? You'll have no work on this river by morning.
Billie: I've been poor before. I've never been you.
I got the ledger back on the table and kept reading.
Four years of routes. The man in the navy shirt had put his name on all of them and paid me nothing for any.
Orin Teller sat in the front row and did not move. His jaw looked tight enough to crack.
Merrit watched me from the Luna's seat. She did not look away.
Dax: She's nothing. She can't even shift. Ask anyone in this hall.
I used to think his words could take pieces off me. Now I heard them land and roll away.
So I said the true thing. The one I had swallowed for two years.
I loved him. I did his river work and asked for my name on it, and he threw me out for asking.
The hall went quiet in a different way this time. Not scared. Listening.
I kept my voice flat and slow.
Dax: You think paper wins this? I'll bury you and every ledger you touch.
I looked at him and did not step back.
His smile came apart like a bad rope. Fear got in behind his eyes.
Ewan: Dax. Sit down.
My father's voice carried to the back wall, and Dax sat.
I turned to the whole room and said it plain.
The ledgers were mine. The work was mine. The river would hear it.
My hands stopped shaking. I was not begging anyone to believe me.
Nobody came to drag me out. Nobody laughed.
I watched Dax's fear turn into something worse.
It looked like a plan.