Scavenge the Stars (Scavenge the Stars #1)(50)

Every man carries his sins a different way.

“I couldn’t find every record, but from what I could gather, your father fell further into debt with Mercado. A debt he couldn’t repay.”

The parchment crumpled between Amaya’s hands. She stared blankly at the garden before her, revelation opening a pit under-neath her.

She didn’t want it to be true. She didn’t want to have something in common with Boon, hatred toward a man who had torn their lives apart.

“I’m sorry,” Liesl said when Amaya stayed quiet. “The fact that Mercado was tied to this is…Well, it doesn’t surprise me, but it can’t be easy. At least we’re going to be striking back. That’s the whole point of coming here, isn’t it? Boon gets his Landless status revoked, we get paid, and you get revenge for your father.”

So simple when she said it. It wasn’t simple where it sat in Amaya’s chest, a tangled ball of rage and grief that threatened to grow a briar around her heart.

Had Mercado been behind all of it? Her father’s debt, his punishment, her being sold?

“We don’t have to go through with this today if you don’t want to,” Liesl said, tapping the paper that Amaya had taken outside with her. “We can reschedule.”

Amaya took a deep breath, her chest shaking under the weight of this new information.

“No,” she said, standing. “This is perfect timing. Now I know specifically what to ask of them.”

Liesl nodded her approval. “I’ll go prepare, then.”

Amaya still had no definite answers to her questions, but that was going to change. Today.



A few hours later, Amaya ran her thumb over the crinkled edge of Zharo’s list, glowering at the far wall of the sitting room as she slouched in her cushioned, gilded chair. She was fairly certain the furniture under her backside cost more than the Brackish had, and it only worsened her mood.

At the doors to the sitting room, Liesl was busy ushering away a stocky man. “We thank you for your time, Mr. Vedasto,” she said in her best lady-in-waiting voice, all musical and charming. “We will contact you if you seem to be the right fit.”

Amaya watched the man leave. He passed by Deadshot standing guard at the door, the mercenary trailing his movements with hungry eyes, as if itching for any excuse for a fight.

Liesl waited until the man was gone before pecking Deadshot on the cheek and walking back into the room with a sigh.

“Boon has trained you well,” the girl said, pouring herself some tea and splashing in a bit of brandy from the drink cart. “If it were me, I’d have stabbed one of these bastards by now.”

“Yes, you’re very good at stabbing, aren’t you?” Amaya muttered.

“Shush.” Liesl took a moment to sit and rest, sipping daintily at her tea. “I did you a favor with Zharo.”

Amaya ground her teeth together and looked over the list in her hand, already crinkled from her handling throughout the day.

“We’ll find something,” Liesl said. “One of these men ought to have a lead.”

But they had been at it all afternoon—a steady stream of investigation under the pretense of Countess Yamaa conducting interviews. So far, there had been no luck. Every man who was shown into the sitting room left roughly ten minutes later, confused. The most recent debt collector, Jin Vedasto, had blinked vapidly at her under thick, wiry brows as she asked him questions.

“Who was your employer? How long did you work for them? What would you say was the most fulfilling aspect of your former employment?”

Vedasto had given slow, drawn-out answers, as if he suspected this to be the trap that it was. Then Amaya had gone for the final blow.

“I’ll be honest, Mr. Vedasto. I was given your name by Lord Mercado,” she said as Countess Yamaa, her hands folded in her lap to disguise how her fingers tightened. She hoped the name would inspire them to discuss the merchant in more detail. “He knows I’m searching for someone with your specific…talents. I’ve done some research on your past jobs, though I couldn’t help but wonder if you knew anything about a certain job that wasn’t documented. Specifically, the sale of a child from a family named Chandra.”

Vedasto had swung his head from side to side. “Beggin’ your pardon, lady, but I don’t know nothin’ about that.”

So Amaya had signaled Liesl to see him out, the sixth debt collector she had dismissed that day. She didn’t know how much more she could take.

“It makes me sick to sit across from them,” Amaya said. “Knowing exactly what they did but having to look into their eyes and pretend that I admire their actions.”

“And many are retired now,” Liesl observed, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Must have been good money, selling children.”

Amaya exhaled through her teeth.

“We have three more to go. The next one is waiting in the foyer. Should we tell them to come back tomorrow?”

Amaya took a moment to look up at the ceiling, at the intricate golden designs and dark wood paneling. Although the sitting room was spacious, it felt cramped with all the elegant furniture and molding and the thick bluish-green rug of Rehanese design under her slippers.

“No,” she decided, bringing her gaze back to Liesl. “Send the next one in.”

When Liesl left, Amaya nervously plucked at the cream fabric of her Rehanese wrap dress. It had a high collar that felt constricting against her throat whenever she swallowed.