Scavenge the Stars (Scavenge the Stars #1)(29)

But before he could finish, there was a short scream followed by a splash. The countess turned sharply, layered skirts fanning out around her. In the pool with the floating lanterns, the little girl Cayo had spotted earlier was flailing in the water. The partygoers yelped at the shock of it, but no one moved to do anything.

Cayo rushed forward, but the countess was faster.

In the time it took her to get to the edge of the pool, she had kicked off her heels and torn off the outermost layer of her skirts. Then, without hesitation, she arced gracefully into the water. It was more than graceful—she seemed to meld with the water, like molten metal. Like she had been born in it.

She swam to the girl and grabbed hold of her, using one arm to propel them back to the edge. A server helped them out onto the bank, the little girl coughing and sputtering.

The partygoers erupted into applause. Cayo stood there in shock, trying to parse out what he had just seen: a countess, ruining her gown for a servant. Where had she learned to swim like that?

The countess asked for the server’s jacket, which she wrapped around the girl’s trembling shoulders. The server led the girl back to the house to recover.

Cayo approached the countess, dripping wet and wringing out her long hair, as excited lords and ladies flocked around her to commend her for her bravery. He glared at them, thinking that they could have just as easily gone in after the girl if they’d thought to put down their drinks and canapés for one second.

“Thank you,” he said when he caught her attention. He wasn’t sure why he was thanking her, exactly, but it felt right.

She tossed her wet hair over her shoulder. Her dress was sodden, heavy and damp and clinging to her skin, and he once again had the impression that she was some kind of sea creature who’d mistakenly found herself on land.

Then she leaned over and spat. The lords and ladies murmured in surprise, then laughed in delight.

“It’s a tricky thing, water,” the countess said. The kohl smudged around her eyes gave her a wild, untamed quality that both frightened and fascinated him. “If you don’t know how to navigate it, it can take everything from you.”

She dismissed him as easily as turning her head and excusing herself politely to her crowd of admirers. She made her way back to the main house, and he followed her with his eyes.

Perhaps he had misjudged her. Perhaps there was something even rarer hiding under all that gold.





Trickster told the people that if they prayed to him, he would find them a suitable leader. The people prayed and left out bowls of sweet milk with herbs. They thought Trickster would find them a worthy emperor, as that was all they had ever known. But at dawn on the third day, they found a woman clad in red standing on the steps of the Ruby Palace. She was their empress, she said, and as the people bowed, Trickster fed on their confusion and lapped up their surprise, sweeter than the milk they had offered.

—KHARIAN MYTH



It took all of the countess’s willpower not to slam the door behind her.

Soaked and seething, she went to the window and peeked around the curtains at the party below. Cayo Mercado was still by the pool, gazing up at the main house with a complicated expression. He had all the fine features of one born to wealth: soft skin, glossy hair, an air of assuredness. And a smile that knew exactly what it did to those it was aimed at.

Of course—of course—he had to turn out to be the Mercado heir. Fate had never been kind to her; she saw no reason why that should change now.

She had actually enjoyed talking to him at the first party. She found his casual mannerisms and blunt speech refreshing after an hour of pointless niceties with the Moray nobility. She had dropped the Mercado name in the hopes that he might know them, that perhaps she could turn him into an ally. She had even been hoping to see him again.

In her room, she changed into a dress of peach and coral, the skirt filled with embroidery work of shells of different shapes. She had been planning on saving this one for the next party; she would have to get another commissioned so that the petty nobles didn’t start whispering about how Countess Yamaa recycled her dresses.

Liesl, her “lady-in-waiting,” bustled into the room after her. “What, may I ask, was that?”

“Don’t start,” she growled, flailing in her efforts to close the dress’s clasp at the back of her neck. Liesl helped her.

“Eager to return to the party?” Liesl asked when she turned back around. She was a couple of years older than the countess and originally from the Rain Empire, pretty and plump with light brown skin and curly chestnut hair. Although Liesl called herself Landless, she was technically only exiled from the Rain Empire after having been caught spying in a nobleman’s estate.

“No, but every second I stand here talking to you is a second I’m not getting closer to the Mercado heir.”

Liesl’s eyes widened, and she ushered her to the vanity table to fix her makeup and tie up her hair. But by the time the countess flew back downstairs, bursting out the front door and breathlessly scanning the glittering crowd for any sign of Cayo Mercado, he was nowhere to be seen.

Finally, she spotted him at the end of the winding path that led to the estate, hailing his carriage. Gritting her teeth, she clutched the skirt of her new dress and hurried to the stairs.

One of the nobles saw her and lifted his drink. “Behold, our fearless countess!” The others around him cheered and applauded.