Scavenge the Stars (Scavenge the Stars #1)(43)

And besides that, since returning to the estate last night Amaya had been in a mild state of shock, even when Liesl helped her wash off the blood and gave her a mugful of warm milk with a pinch of turmeric. Sleep had evaded her, making her toss and turn. She kept seeing Zharo’s murky, lifeless eyes. Kept smelling his rancid odor on her clothes, in her hair.

Amaya scratched the back of her hand, still a little raw from all the times she’d washed it last night.

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.

Amaya bared her teeth. Liesl was wrong; it should have been her work. She had not only been robbed of the opportunity to find out where Roach was, but her revenge had gone unfulfilled.

She closed her eyes and sent up a quick prayer for Roach, willing him strength for whatever had befallen him. Apologizing for the delay in finding him.

A scrape and a call made her open her eyes again. On the ground floor of the teahouse, men were setting up a dais against the left wall. Once it was in place, they brought up a podium, as well as easel stands hidden by sheets.

“Excuse me,” she called to a passing server, “what’s going on?”

“Ah, today’s an auction day,” the server said. “They’re usually held in the Business Sector, but once every few months we get to host them at the teahouse.”

“And what is an auction day?” She tried her best to keep her voice level and snippy, an heiress demanding answers rather than a curious orphan peeking into another world.

“You’re aware of the Widow Vaults here in Moray?” She nodded; they were purchased and handed down from family to family. “Every so often a Vault is left abandoned when an heir doesn’t claim it. About a month after it passes that mark, the Vault is up for auction to the highest bidder. That is, unless no one gets wind that it’s for sale and swoops in to buy it for themselves.”

Amaya tried not to frown. “Why is it auctioned?”

The server’s eyes widened slightly, as if unable to fathom her ignorance. “There’s all sorts of treasure in them, of course. I’ve never seen the contents of one myself, but I’ve heard rumors—rich silks, forbidden spices, blood jewels, even parts of ships! And gold. Piles and piles of gold.” He was nearly salivating at the idea.

“I see. Thank you for the explanation.”

He nodded and hurried away to the next table. Amaya shifted in her seat, suddenly overcome by a heavy curtain of sorrow. She had lost everything of her parents—their belongings, their clothes, their furniture. They had never been wealthy enough to afford a Widow Vault, and she wondered now what she could have reclaimed of her past life if they had.

Sighing, she leaned forward to take in the sea of lovers and friends at the tables below. The riot of flowers and potted ferns around the teahouse made for a fragrant atmosphere when combined with the aromatic steam and the underlying scent of fresh baked goods. The chatter of the patrons was a soft background roar interspersed with the twinkling chime of teacups and saucers, occasionally interrupted by a man who kept coughing into his napkin.

“You look besotted,” Avi mumbled from his place near the railing, acting as her bodyguard and footman. “Don’t tell me you of all people enjoy places like this?”

Amaya leaned back from the railing with a scowl, heat crawling to her face. “No. It’s just…a different experience.”

Besides, so what if she liked it? She was fulfilling a wish from her childhood. But with her lingering rage from last night paired with the unexpected grief of this morning’s reminder of all she’d lost, she was finding it difficult to properly enjoy herself.

“Well, save some of that for the boyo,” Avi said, jerking his chin toward the spiral staircase. “I’m sure it’ll do wonders for his ego.”

Amaya turned. Cayo Mercado was being escorted to the table by one of the servers, who was dressed in the pink-and-white uniform of Laelia’s. Cayo, in contrast, wore a jacket of deep navy and dark breeches. They were colors that must have matched his mood, for his eyes were glazed and his brow furrowed until he looked up and spotted Amaya.

The server held out a seat for Cayo, who took it with the ease of one who was used to having others pull their chairs in and out for them. Amaya’s fingers twitched in irritation under the table.

“My lord, my lady, welcome to Laelia’s,” the server said. “We have an excellent array of blends today, a fresh shipment straight from the heart of Khari. I personally recommend the white starlight blend, which carries notes of lemongrass and mallow blossoms.”

Amaya put on a bland smile as the server spoke, unable to resist studying Cayo as he politely gave the server his attention. Up close she could discern the bags under his dark eyes, and the way his hair had started to droop out of its styled look. A black strand of it had fallen across his forehead, curled and stiff with pomade.

Although the lines of his jaw and nose were sharp, there was something almost soft about him, the more she stared. Perhaps it had something to do with the tender slope of his neck, or how his lips weren’t as thin as most boys’. Or maybe it was just that he was sleepy, blinking slow and often as the server went on.

The show of weakness only stoked her rage. To him, she wasn’t a threat.

Not yet.

“Do any of those strike your fancy, my lady? My lord?”