Scavenge the Stars (Scavenge the Stars #1)(18)

“How can you think this way?” Cayo spat. “Are Soria and I nothing but a business venture for you? One of us has been a spare all along?”

“That’s not how I meant—”

“If you truly loved your daughter, you’d be fighting tooth and nail for her!”

“You don’t think I know how to fight tooth and nail?” His father stood as well, his eyes bright with fury. “I did that in order for you to live the only life you’ve ever known, one filled with velvet and gold. I did that to buy this manor, to give us status, to bring us up in the world. But you, Cayo—you know nothing of fighting. You simply take and spend. And now here we are.”

Cayo stormed out, slamming the door behind him. How dare his father insinuate he was the reason Soria could die? He wouldn’t let her. He refused to let ash fever take her from him. They had already lost their mother to sickness. Cayo could not survive going through it a second time.

Dizzy, he leaned against the wall and slid to the floor, resting his forehead on his knees.

Just don’t fall back into bad habits, all right?

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to the hallway. To Soria. Because he knew there was only one way to get the money he needed—only one way to save her life.

He had to once again play for the Slum King.





When Neralia fell from the kingdom in the clouds, she held her hands out to the stars who had forsaken her. Their winking gazes turned away, and the water rose to claim her, sheltering her from their disdain.

—“NERALIA OF THE CLOUDS,” AN ORAL STORY ORIGINATING FROM THE LEDE ISLANDS



It was strange how seven years could fit inside a pack.

Silverfish looked around her hammock for the fifth time, but everything she owned had been stuffed inside her bag already: a hairbrush, a change of clothes, a rock that was shaped like Moray’s Crescent Bay.

Her stomach was a squirming mess, her head buzzing from lack of sleep. She tried to tell herself it was a good thing—her body recognized an opportunity. But it mostly set her teeth on edge, the anticipation tingling down to her fingers.

Today, the Brackish was docking in Moray.

Today, she would be free.

Just in time for her mother’s birthday.

Silverfish unwound the frayed linen bandage from her swollen hand, revealing the small knife tattoo on her wrist. Flexing her fingers, she checked the cut from the rockfish, red and puffy yet on its way to healing.

Survive.

For seven years, she had survived. She had done anything she could to dance out of death’s way in preparation for this moment. And now her reward would be her mother’s face when she saw her daughter walk through the door.

Some of the Water Bugs were already awake and watched her in the predawn light. She smiled, but most didn’t smile back. Beetle, however, scrambled off her hammock and ran to her. The little girl threw her arms around Silverfish’s legs, her thin body shaking as she hid her face against her thigh.

Silverfish’s hand hovered above the girl’s back. After a moment, she settled it on Beetle’s shoulder.

“Don’t go,” the girl whimpered against her leg. She could feel Beetle’s hot breath through the tattered fabric of her trousers.

Silverfish took a deep breath and sank to one knee before the girl.

“One day you’ll be able to leave this ship, too. It won’t be today, or tomorrow, but that day will come. And you’ll walk away with your head held high.” Silverfish gently jostled her shoulder. “Remember that, all right?”

Beetle pressed her lips together to prevent them from trembling as she nodded. Silverfish briefly cradled the side of her head, not remembering until after she pulled away that that was something her father used to do.

“Anyway, I’m not gone just yet,” she told Beetle as she headed for the door.

She lingered in the companionway, wondering if she should check on Boon. His words still whispered in her mind, following her into nightmares of treasure chests filled with nooses and gambling halls soaked with blood.

Gritting her teeth, she turned away from the stairs leading down to the cells. He wasn’t her problem any longer.

Out on the deck, she took a deep breath of clean salt air. The morning waves danced silver; last night’s wind had settled into a light breeze. It carried the distinct scent of land, dry and green and oddly foreign. A ship was never quiet, but in the early stages of dawn it was the calmest it would be before the Bugs swarmed the deck and Zharo began to bellow orders.

Roach was already up; she wondered if he’d also had a hard time sleeping. He leaned against the railing, his back to her. She passed under the debt board to reach him and couldn’t help but scan it for her name. Her sum had been set to zero—the pearl had been enough. Something large and messy swelled within her at the sight, a relief so strong that it threatened to consume her.

Roach turned when she was close. His expression was complicated. She could tell he didn’t want her to go, though he would never admit it out loud. Her only regret escaping the Brackish was leaving him behind.

His seven years would be up in six months. He would make it until then.

He had to.

She raised their two-finger salute, which he returned before taking her hand in his. Calluses hardened his palm and fingertips, his knuckles protruding like mountains. She brushed her thumb across their peaks and valleys, and he smiled sadly.