Scavenge the Stars (Scavenge the Stars #1)(79)

In all this time, she had not yet faced Mercado, but now she found she had no other choice.

In order to get the answers she craved, she would have to confront him. Not as Countess Yamaa, or even Silverfish, but as herself. Amaya, the girl who had helped plot his downfall and urged his son to betray him. If she didn’t, she would never know the truth. She would forever be wrapped in falsehoods and lies.

She was the greatest counterfeit of all: a ragged girl masquerading in gowns she should never have been able to afford, the pieces of her sewn together like a patchwork doll.

Slowly she stood, gaining the attention of Liesl and Deadshot.

“I’m going to the Port’s Authority tomorrow,” she said. “And I’m going to end this.”



Although the rain had stopped by early afternoon the following day, the sky was still bruised with clouds, the air heavy and thick. Almost as if it expected that change was coming.

The city seemed affected by it, the people talking in hushed voices and throwing uneasy glances over their shoulders. Mourning flags had been raised outside of homes and shops, white pennants and banners bearing the crest of Moray: a cutlass crossed with a rolled-up scroll.

Amaya wondered why they were mourning a man revealed to be a fraud when she remembered that the prince was dead. Now Moray felt like a held breath, a deep inhale before a plunge.

She noticed all this as she walked to the Business Sector, her boots splashing through puddles and her hair frizzing out of her braid from the humidity the storm had left in its wake. Liesl had tried her hardest to get Amaya to take a carriage, but she had refused.

“I can’t go as Countess Yamaa,” she had insisted. “I’ll attract too much attention.” And besides, she wanted to speak to Mercado without pretense, so he could see what had become of her.

“Fine,” Liesl had sighed. “But Deadshot will be following behind, and I’ll have Avi on standby just in case.”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”

“Don’t let your guard down just because Mercado is behind bars,” Liesl had warned her, eyes flashing. “This news on the heels of the prince’s passing is going to throw an unexpected wrench in the gearwork of this city. Stay sharp.”

Amaya was breathing harder by the time she reached the Port’s Authority, but not from the walk; the more she imagined facing Mercado, the more her stomach shrank in on itself in a writhing, confusing mess. She had imagined this moment in many different ways—stealing through his window and putting a knife to his throat, confronting him at the docks, walking into Mercado Manor beside Cayo. Never like this, in broad daylight, with bars separating them.

But when she asked the receptionist at the front about visitation, she only received an odd look and was told to sit on a bench and wait. She sat there for nearly half an hour, her legs jogging with nerves, until the doors opened and an officer stepped out.

“Mercado?” he repeated when she told him her reason for being there. “He was released this morning.”

The floor tilted beneath her. “What? Why?”

“Not enough evidence yet to prove anything. The case is still open, though. If he really is guilty, we’ll bring him back in.”

“But he could escape the city! He could cover all his tracks and—”

“Miss, this really isn’t the time or place,” the officer said, glancing at the folks still waiting on the benches, listening in. “The city is in mourning. Once things calm down a little, we’ll be picking up where we left off.”

Amaya couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She turned on her heel and stormed out, fingernails driving into her palms. All her work, for nothing. Mercado had still slipped free, and she still had no answers.

Damn it. Damn him.

She wasn’t going to let this go. She was going to play out one of her fantasies after all: barge into Mercado’s house and use that as her battleground, the stage for the revenge her blood cried for.

Before she could even reach the end of the street, a familiar figure barreled around the corner and nearly ran into her. Avi, out of breath and shimmering with sweat, grabbed her arms.

“Mercado,” he gasped out. “He’s been released.”

“I know,” she growled, ripping out of his hold. “I’m about to break down the door of his house.”

“He’s not there. Liesl—she found out—he’s at the Vaults,” he panted. He must have run straight here from the estate. Deadshot trotted up to them from where she had been stationed on the street. “The Widow Vaults.”

She frowned. “Why would he go there?”

He wiped the sweat from his brow with a shaking hand. “There’s a Vault he’s been trying to buy for years. The statute of limitations for its heir to claim it ended today.”

“So?”

Avi exchanged a look with Deadshot, whose hand rested on one of her pistols.

“The Vault belonged to Arun Chandra,” he said.

Her ears roared. She was running before she could fully process what he’d said, the other two calling after her.

Arun Chandra.

How had she not known that her father owned a Vault? Why did he even have a Vault? He had died penniless, in debt to Mercado!

She found the familiar building and raced up the stairs, still slick with rain. Stumbling through the open front doors, she looked around for some sign of Mercado, unsure what she would do once she saw him but knowing that she had to face him.