Scavenge the Stars (Scavenge the Stars #1)(16)

“Caaayooo.”

He tensed at the voice that sang his name from the darkness. A second later, she emerged from the mouth of the alleyway, one gloved hand on her hip and the other swinging a parasol by its handle.

“Romara.” He barely managed to hide the dread in that one word.

She gasped in mock surprise. “You remembered my name! I worried. It’s been so long.” Romara pretended to pout, puffing out lips that had been painted black for the evening. Other than that, everything about her was red, from the elbow-length gloves to her shoes. Even her battered, moth-eaten parasol was a deep burgundy. She wore her dark hair in a messy bun, kept in place by a glittering hairpin.

“You’re a little off course, dear,” she went on, pointing behind her with her parasol. “You know where the best spots are.”

He hadn’t even realized his feet were automatically bringing him to the one place he shouldn’t be. Tomjen and the twins had gotten into his head with all their talk of fun. He longed for that familiar cocktail of pleasure and danger sending excitement shivering through him. It would be like easing a sore body into a warm bath—something to take the edge off, to smooth out his nerves, to quiet his anxious mind. He could wager the sapphire hanging from his ear in the hopes of winning more. More money he could spare for Sébastien. More money for Soria’s treatment.

Just don’t fall back into bad habits, all right? Soria’s voice whispered in his ear.

“I’m not going to the Vice Sector,” he said. “Not tonight.” Not ever.

Romara scoffed and stepped closer, and he could see now the smudged kohl winging from the corners of her eyes.

“What’s the matter, Cayo?” She cocked her head. “Too good for us now, hmm? Good little merchant boys don’t gamble, or some shit like that?”

“Some shit like that,” he agreed, steadying her as she swayed. Something inside him swayed, too—a feeling similar to seeing Sébastien on the docks, regret and nostalgia tied up into a complicated knot. “Why don’t you go home, Romara?”

She scoffed again, flinging her arms out on either side of her. “I am home!” She laughed, a high, shrieking sound that made him cringe.

“I mean to your father’s.”

Romara dropped her arms, a flash of hurt across her face. “I know what you mean, asshole. Don’t tell me what to do.”

He raised his hands. “All right.” The last thing he wanted to do was get on Romara’s bad side. As the daughter of the Slum King, all it took was a lazy point of her gloved finger for her father’s men to drag away the poor fools who thought to annoy her. Most were never seen again.

At least he had spent enough time at the casinos for them to understand each other. Romara didn’t seem to have her own friends; instead, she was prone to flitting among the groups of regulars who wandered into her father’s domain. Cayo had often watched her stalk the casino floors like a wary lioness, surprised that she was so young—only about his age. There had been something vulnerable about her then, a hint of uneasiness under the mask of haughty indifference she was so fond of wearing.

Perhaps that was why he had invited her to some of the games he played with the twins and Tomjen and Bas. At first his friends had been terrified of her, shooting Cayo dirty, accusing looks for even daring to get Romara’s attention. But when she had told them the best ways to cheat at which tables and which dealers were more easily distracted than others, she had fit right in.

Ever since then, she sometimes joined them during those restless nights, sharing jaaga leaf to smoke together. They had once lain on their backs on the roof of the tallest casino for hours, high out of their minds and complaining about the city spread out around them.

Romara’s complaints were always the same: how her father’s grasp on Moray was weakening, and how she would one day push him off his bloody throne to rule this city the way it should be.

“Just one hour,” she wheedled now, licking at the corner of her lips. Some of her lipstick had faded there. “The Scatterjack dealer they have at the Grand Mariner tonight is one of your favorites. The one with the curly hair.”

Again temptation pulled at him, but weaker than before. After his outburst at Countess Yamaa’s party, his mind was cloudy, static.

“Not tonight,” he repeated with that dimpled smile. “But soon.”

She grabbed his chin in her hand, shaking his head a bit. “It better be soon.”

Then she tottered back to the alleyway, blowing a sloppy kiss over her shoulder as her heels clacked into the shadows. He thought he heard her laugh drunkenly to herself.

Cayo exhaled wearily and turned back for the carriage. When he finally arrived at Mercado Manor, he felt as if he’d been beaten with a branch. He thanked the coachman and greeted Narin, who held the door open for him with a short bow. The man’s face was creased with concern, as it had been ever since Soria’s incident.

Cayo crept up the stairs toward his sister’s room, his footsteps muffled by the green runner. He didn’t want to bump into his father and be interrogated about how the party went. What would he even say? “Oh yes, it was lovely, especially the part where some lady accused you of employing children.”

Easing Soria’s door open, he found that the candles were still lit in the sitting room, the door to Miss Lawan’s connecting room closed. He walked in and peered into the bedroom. Soria was fast asleep in her spacious bed, blankets piled on top of her to help ease the chills that racked her body.