Scavenge the Stars (Scavenge the Stars #1)(39)

Lesson number one, Boon had told her on the island, is to always aim for the cock and balls first.

Pivoting her hips, Amaya jerked her knee up and between Zharo’s legs. The man wheezed and fell to his side, allowing her to wriggle free and whip out a knife from her boot.

This was it. In one thrust of her arm, she was going to put an end to this wretched chapter of her life. Zharo would no longer be the author of her misery. He would never hurt her or the other Bugs ever again.

Zharo heaved himself up and cocked the hammer of his pistol back, just like that fateful day on the Brackish. “I’ll see you in the hells, Silverfish.”

But before he could fire or she could stab him, he convulsed with a strangled yell. He twitched once, twice, then fell back onto his side, the light leaving his wide, murky eyes.

Amaya panted as she stared at him, uncomprehending. A voice wormed its way into her head, until it was practically yelling in her ear.

“Amaya!”

She started and swung her knife up, but it was blocked by another. Liesl stood before her, dressed in black as Amaya was. The knife she held was dripping blood onto the floor.

“You really should have told me you were planning this before going out on your own,” Liesl said, gesturing to the still body of Zharo. A pool of blood was spreading from his corpse, inching toward Amaya still sprawled on the floor.

“Wh-what—” Her mind struggled to catch up to what had happened. “You killed him?”

Liesl shrugged and offered a hand to help her up. “Boon said not to leave any witnesses.”

Now that the shock was beginning to wear off, Amaya bared her teeth and smacked Liesl’s hand away. “He was supposed to die by my hand!”

“What difference does it make? Look, he’s gone.” She nudged his body. “You don’t need to worry about him any longer.”

Amaya got to her feet, shaking. Nausea gripped her stomach, and looking at Zharo’s body didn’t help. “It was supposed to be me! He was—He was always—”

She couldn’t tell her that it wasn’t so easy to simply not worry about him any longer. He would always be there, laughing at her, taunting her, ready to remind her she was nothing. Maybe, if it had been her hand on the knife, she could have severed that connection with him—but now she would never know.

“Amaya.” Liesl looked her in the eye. Although Liesl was a girl who loved frills and flowers, Amaya could see the steel in her, hinting at a difficult life. “Trust me, you don’t know what it means to kill a man—to have someone’s blood on your hands. You aren’t ready to face that yet. For now, you just need to be Countess Yamaa and focus on charming the city. Leave the dirty work to us. That’s why Boon sent us with you.”

Amaya was breathing hard, the room flooded with the metallic scent of Zharo’s blood. It coated her throat and choked her. She swayed on her feet, and Liesl took her by the arm.

“Let’s get you home and cleaned up,” the girl soothed. “We can discuss this later.”

As Liesl led her from the room, Amaya looked over her shoulder at the remains of the man who had helped ruin her life, the pitiful mass of useless flesh he left behind.

Then Liesl gently closed the door, putting an end to Silverfish for good.





If opportunity does not find you, you must create your own.

—THE DEVIOUS ART OF DICE AND DEALING



The office of the Port’s Authority was situated in the Business Sector, its facade of marbled columns and elaborate window fittings blending in perfectly with the rest of the buildings along the main, cobbled thoroughfare. Golden letters gleamed in the dawn light above the entryway, spelling out the name of Moray’s infamous system of authority.

As Cayo climbed out of the carriage, he was hit with the same disorientation he experienced every time he visited the Business Sector. Most sectors in Moray harkened back to a time when the city state was a part of Rehan, but after its colonization by the Rain Empire long ago, there were areas—like this one—where the architecture was so extravagant and pretentious that Cayo had to wonder if he was even in the same city.

He told the exhausted carriage driver to find some tea and take a break, and the driver touched his forelock in thanks. Cayo then turned to the office’s wide double doors, the counterfeit coin held snug in his fist.

The main floor was quiet, the benches on either side mostly empty save for a woman with a black eye and a couple of men with crossed arms speaking in low tones. Cayo approached the young man at the desk near another set of doors.

“I’m looking for Petty Officer Nawarak?”

The young man waved him toward the doors beside the desk, not bothering to look up from his book.

Unlike the main floor, the back area was bustling with workers shuffling papers and running files into offices, all overlaid with the din of officers talking and cursing and laughing. It smelled strongly of parchment and burnt coffee. Cayo asked around until he found Nawarak’s desk near the far wall.

She was sitting with her head propped on her hand as she glowered at a file spread before her. Although she was only in her early twenties, a wrinkle was already beginning to form between her eyebrows due to all her frowning. Her bluish-black hair was tied into a tight braid, showing off a round, pleasant face that clashed with her no-nonsense eyes.

She flicked that no-nonsense gaze up to him when he sat in the chair before her desk.