Scavenge the Stars (Scavenge the Stars #1)(27)

It should have been peaceful, but Cayo’s mind raced with panic.

His entire being had been stripped to just three senses: Sébastien’s eyes staring at him from the jar, Romara’s smell on his clothes, and his father’s warning lingering in his ear. Do not fail us.

Standing before a wide pool in the center of the gardens, Cayo scanned the crowd for the strange young woman he’d met a week ago at the countess’s last party, the one who didn’t mind ruining her gown with snacks—and had unknowingly called him a drunken playboy. He found himself hoping she would be here tonight, longing to get in a fight just to still the restless agitation within him.

He glared down at the pool, its water lit with floating candle boats that made a few coins at the bottom glint. The candle boats were of Kharian origin, clay molded into lantern shapes painted with swirling designs. A bridge arched over the water, where couples were strolling to take in the romantic scenery.

It was convenient for them, Cayo thought, to completely dismiss the servant children lighting lanterns around the garden. He watched as one of them, a small girl with wispy brown hair and a sunburn, leaned over the edge of the pool to corral one of the floating lanterns her way. She, like the other children of varying ages, was dressed in the purple livery of Countess Yamaa’s house.

Purple sails, purple livery…He was beginning to sense a theme.

Disgusted by the sight of the working children, he turned away. He hadn’t wanted to come, but once again, his father had made him.

Since you’re so desperate for options, here’s one, Kamon had said. Try to seduce the countess. Securing a marriage contract with her could be invaluable. Or, who knows, maybe you can make use of your unique talents and lift a crystal doorknob while you’re there. She probably won’t even notice if one goes missing.

Cayo had suppressed a wince at the word marriage. He still hadn’t told his father about Romara. He knew he had to do it soon, but every time the thought crept in, fear locked his muscles and dried his mouth.

Ever since he had foolishly agreed to marry her, Cayo had felt as if he were in a fugue, existing only because his lungs and heart stubbornly refused to stop. Since his father would never agree to an engagement with the Slum King’s daughter, they were going to pretend that Romara was a member of the Rehanese gentry until the marriage contract was signed. And then the other shoe would drop, and the Slum King would get the status he so craved.

“Drink?”

He blindly grabbed whatever was on the serving tray offered to him. Soria would have frowned to see him drink again, but Soria wasn’t here, and wasn’t that the whole point? He took a big gulp and immediately recognized the taste of Calamity, the drink of choice for gamblers who were quickly spiraling into bankruptcy and needed something to fortify themselves. It was typically made with lupseh, a Ledese alcohol, and a mix of bitters and cherry syrup, with just a hint of coffee bean to deepen the flavor.

The taste brought him back to the dens, to the smoke-thick rooms and the hot press of bodies. His friends clapping him on the back, spurring him on.

One more round, Cayo?

He glanced at the server who had offered the tray. The Kharian man seemed to be in his thirties and had a wholly unprofessional look to him. His hair was a bit too long, his nails a bit too ragged.

“So where is the countess, anyway?” Cayo asked. “Shouldn’t she be at her own party?”

The server righted his tray, which had been tilting to one side. “She’s bound to make her entrance soon, m’lord.” His words were flat and laced with annoyance. He quickly moved on to a flock of young women, muttering as he went.

Cayo took to his drink like a man dying of thirst. New plan: He would get drunk, and then he would tell his father that he was gaining a criminal for a daughter-in-law. Cayo sputtered a laugh into his glass, his blood already fizzing after not having had alcohol for so long.

Then he blinked. As he stared into the crowd, he began to recognize one of the faces: Philip Dageur, the son of wealthy immigrants from the Rain Empire.

And Sébastien’s ex-lover.

Would he know where Bas was, or what had happened to him? Cayo knew they were still friends—and perhaps a bit more than that—and that Bas would never want Philip to give him charity, but it was the one place Cayo hadn’t tried.

As Cayo began to make his way over, a voice projected across the garden.

“Noble gentry of Moray, I present to you, Countess Yamaa!”

Cayo turned at the crescendo of applause. A woman with brown skin and black hair was descending one of the marble staircases. Although she wobbled on a stair here and there in her high-heeled shoes, there was still something commanding about her that spoke to him. He gravitated toward her, a wandering planet in need of a star to orbit.

But when she turned her face in his direction, his stomach gave a violent lurch.

It was the young woman who had spoken to him at the countess’s last party—the one who had insulted him and claimed his father employed children.

She was Countess Yamaa?

His mind raced as he tried to recall exactly what he had said to her. He had disparaged her taste, her party, her attitude…everything. Feeling sick, Cayo turned and frantically looked for a way out that wouldn’t involve passing by her. Philip was gone—damn it—but he spotted Tomjen nearby, his lanky arm slung around a lowly lord’s daughter. Cayo began to make his way to them when the countess’s gin-strong voice easily broke through the din of the party.