Scavenge the Stars (Scavenge the Stars #1)(68)

It had reeked of the wine that had ruined it. Pushing open the lid, Cayo had staggered back from its contents, his breath catching in his throat.

Hundreds of black discs, all identical to the one in his pocket.

Cayo wasn’t sure how he managed to pass the rest of the night without pounding down his father’s door. He’d put the chest in his bedroom closet before going back to Soria’s room, where the heat had lulled him into a trance-like state that wasn’t quite sleep, but neither had he been fully awake. When Narin had shaken his shoulder hours later, he said that Kamon was out on business for the day.

Cayo had been relieved to avoid a confrontation with his father. After all, he had the evidence that Nawarak needed. It would be enough to claim his reward money.

But it would cost him so much more than whatever he would be paid.

Which was why he could only stand and stare at the office of the Port’s Authority, his head and his heart at war with each other. Nausea sat coiled in his gut, spiking painfully whenever he moved to take a step forward.

What if he was wrong? What if his father was being set up? What if Cayo single-handedly destroyed whatever was left of the Mercado name, ruining the business his father had worked so hard to cultivate?

Cayo pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, cursing. What could he do? What should he do? Condemn his family, or condemn the city?

It felt as if he stood there for an hour, a boy turned to stone, betrayal and fear compressing his bones into faceted mineral. One more blow and he would shatter.

His feet refused to move forward. His mouth had forgotten how to form words. In the end, he turned away from the Port’s Authority and wandered down the main thoroughfare of the Business Sector, his chest sore from the weight of indecision and his heart in his mouth. Disappointment threaded through him at his cowardice.

But Soria didn’t deserve to have this unleashed on their family. His duty was to protect her, not use her as an exhibit in court. His father, though…

I have another child to think about, a blood heir who can inherit our family’s Vault when I’m gone.

Kamon’s meager excuse to let his daughter wither away to nothing. Just like their mother.

What if he wanted her to die to protect his secret?

Cayo shuddered and leaned against the nearest building, his arms crossed tight across his chest. He willed himself to turn back around to the Port’s Authority, but he was too heavy, too uncertain.

He had gambled all his gold away, but he couldn’t gamble his father’s reputation or their livelihoods.

As if inspired by his thoughts, his feet had led him to the Widow Vaults, a massive structure across the street supported with columns and curved eaves. The marble shone in the daylight, the stairs leading to the entrance inscribed with words from an old language of the Rain Empire:

Blood to blood, name to name, bone to bone.

An admittedly macabre way of stating that only those descended from the owners of these Vaults could open them, after the owner’s demise. Cayo had often wondered what was in the Mercado Vault—jewels, gold, bolts of silk? Surely his father would have swept it clean by now, bankrupt as they were.

Kamon wanted at least one child alive to inherit a Vault full of dust and cobwebs.

Or perhaps it was full of counterfeit coins, ready to be spread throughout Moray.

Cayo laughed dully, mirthlessly, and leaned his head back against the wall. Everything was unraveling like a poorly stitched hem. He was tripping and stumbling in the dark.

A shout and a short scream made him pop his head back up. A young boy had fallen into the road, an old, lanky man looming over him. The man was well-dressed in a Rehanese-style suit and gold-trimmed glasses, a walking stick in his hand. Judging by the way he held it, he’d just used it on the downed boy.

“Were your filthy fingers in my pockets?” the man roared. The boy remained curled up, protecting his head. “Answer me, dog!”

The man kicked him in the stomach. The boy coughed and wheezed, his face contorted in pain. The man lifted his walking stick again, intent on smashing in the boy’s skull with the heavy crystal handle.

Cayo lunged forward, getting between the walking stick and the boy. The handle caught him on the shoulder, making him stumble as a bright flare of pain shot across his collarbone.

“What is this?” the man demanded.

“Sir, please don’t harm this child. Whatever wrong he’s done—”

“He was trying to pilfer from me!” the man shouted. They were drawing stares now, people stopping in the street to watch the spectacle. Cayo’s face heated, but he remained where he was, arms spread to prevent the man from getting to the boy again. “I’m a hardworking businessman! He has no right to my money!”

“I’m sure he’s just hungry and frightened,” Cayo said in a softer voice so that it wouldn’t carry. “People in his situation tend to do desperate things for some coin.”

“If he’s so desperate for coin, all he has to do is go to the Vice Sector and learn some tricks.”

Cayo grimaced at the implication. “Kindly walk away before I make this situation worse for you.”

“You can’t speak that way to me! How dare—”

A woman ran down the steps of the Widow Vaults wearing a horrified expression. “Father, please, don’t make a scene! Let’s go.”

The man kept yelling and swinging his walking stick about, but the woman determinedly pulled him down the street, her face hardened with embarrassment.