Scavenge the Stars (Scavenge the Stars #1)(71)

He had spent so long thinking about these words that speaking them out loud now was akin to peeling off the dead skin of a sunburn, revealing the tender, healing skin beneath.

“I’m the reason my family is in this mess,” he said quietly. “It wasn’t just enough to overindulge. I wanted more. So I got in with the Slum King, and I played for him. I dealt. I cheated. I lined his pockets with money.”

He rubbed a hand over his mouth, feeling the bristles starting to come in at his jawline. “But I got in over my head, and I lost…everything. I drained all my coffers, and some of my father’s. I was so far gone that I hadn’t even been keeping track, and my father didn’t notice until it was too late. And then Soria got sick, and…”

“You couldn’t pay for the medicine for ash fever,” the countess finished softly.

He nodded, teeth clenched. “My sister is the reason I got out of that life. She literally dragged me from the gutter and slapped me awake. Without her, I…I don’t know where I would even be now. I’d do whatever it takes to care for her, even if it means condemning myself to something I don’t want.”

The countess stopped under the shivering leaves of a ceiba tree. “Such as marrying yourself off to the Slum King’s daughter.”

Cayo sighed. “I made a bad deal with the Slum King, and Romara was the price. But at least my family stays safe, and we get the medicine Soria needs.”

Yamaa’s eyes were pinched. “You could have come to me for the medicine. We could have struck a fairer deal.”

“This happened before we properly met. And besides, we haven’t known each other that long,” he said with a small smile, though a part of him warmed at the idea that she cared enough to suggest it.

“Still,” she muttered. “Is there a way you can break off the engagement?”

“Not without making the Slum King very, very angry.”

They continued walking, entering the main city and wandering aimlessly down its streets. Although he had taken the lead at first, he noticed that the countess now seemed to be picking out their path, as if her feet were guiding her somewhere. There were few citizens out today, everyone no doubt preferring to keep inside and wait out whatever storm was on its way to Moray. He could smell it in the air, sharp and earthy.

They walked in a direction that Cayo typically never went, but the countess was deep in thought and he didn’t want to disturb her, so he was content to follow. Her hair was half tied back with a butterfly pin, a couple of locks strategically curled and framing her face. He wanted to reach out and brush one behind her ear. To skim his fingertips against her smooth cheek.

God and her stars, what was wrong with him? He was engaged to another woman, his sister was potentially dying, his father was a criminal…And yet all of that fell away when he was with her, this girl made out of salt water and steel.

The countess looked up and blinked at their surroundings. Cayo recognized it as one of the poorer districts, a traditionally Rehanese neighborhood where the houses were guarded by statuettes of star saints. She shrank back suddenly, looking uncomfortable.

“Are you all right?” he asked. He recalled all the times his father would tell him not to go near neighborhoods like these for fear of theft and getting roughed up. “Are you afraid?”

She scowled. “Why should I be afraid?”

“Well, you know, places like this…”

“Just because the people who live here have less money doesn’t mean they’re dangerous,” she said. “They live their lives as best they can, just like you and me.”

Cayo studied her, the flame of her eyes and the white-knuckled grip on her shawl. It was true that he was brimming with secrets, but he was certain she was, too.

“You’re right,” he conceded. “I’m sorry to imply it. Sometimes the things you’re told as a child follow you through the years, whether they’re correct or not.”

That seemed to calm her down, and she gave him a little nod. Wordlessly they agreed to pass by the neighborhood. The countess’s shoulders didn’t ease until they were several blocks away.

Why was it that whenever he spoke to her, he felt as if different parts of himself broke open? He wondered if she felt the same, oddly pleased with the idea that he might have the ability to make her as off-kilter as she made him. But more than that, he was drawn to tell her things, to unleash those frantic whispers inside of him so that he didn’t have to carry them alone.

Cayo drew in a deep breath. “Do you remember when you said something about knowing a person well, only to realize you never truly knew them at all?”

She looked at him with those heavy, dark eyes and said nothing. As if she were plagued by her own restless whispers.

“How do you cope with it?” he asked softly.

The countess bit her lower lip and stared at the cobblestone road as they entered a district near one of the city’s public parks. The sky churned overhead, the air thick and damp.

“It depends,” she answered at last. “What did this person do?”

He thought of the chest hidden in his closet. The specks of blood on Soria’s pillow. The jar containing Sébastien’s eyes. “Something bad. Something that can hurt people—that has hurt people. People I care about.”

She stopped and faced him. He turned to her.