Scavenge the Stars (Scavenge the Stars #1)(82)

Liar, he was a liar; he had killed her father and sold her to Captain Zharo and destroyed her family.

But she didn’t know him, and she didn’t know Boon, either. She didn’t know anything.

She was at the bottom of the dark ocean, under the crushing weight of water, with no way to tell if she was swimming up or down.





You could ask any man on the street what the sweetest things in life are, and he will surely respond in threes: wine, women, and winning. Little do they suspect these things come with bitter edges.

—A HUNDRED AND ONE VICES FOR THE EVERYMAN



Cayo never went home.

A feverlike fear gripped him as soon as he left the Port’s Authority, leaving him shaking and sweating. The carriage driver had taken off, as Cayo had only enough money for the single trip, but the rain had lightened considerably during his couple of hours spent with Nawarak and the rest of the officers assigned to the case.

They had asked him questions in a tone that made him feel as if he were the criminal mastermind. They had asked where he’d found the chest, when the gold coating had dissolved and by what means, if he knew of any other caches in the city.

He had provided them what little information he could. He had done what was right. What Yamaa had given him courage to do.

But now all that courage had drained out of him at the thought of returning to the manor, of facing his sister and his father, waiting for the Port’s Authority to come bang on their door and drag Kamon Mercado away.

No. He couldn’t go home. Not yet.

So he walked. The Business Sector faded away in muted blues and grays, the rare sparkle of gold winking in his eyes and refracted in raindrops. The district had never been his favorite; it was too foreign, too precise, a contributor to the misconception that Moray was all gilt and glamour.

Before he was fully aware of it, his feet had led him to the outskirts of the Vice Sector. The gray clouds grew dark as night approached, like tea steeping in water, and glass lanterns were lit as excited patrons rushed to Diamond Street with their hoods pulled up or carrying umbrellas of colored silk.

Cayo’s heart leaped, his fingertips buzzing. Although he was damp from the rain, his mouth was paper-dry, and the thought of sipping on something that would warm his chest and burn away his fear created a monstrous longing in him.

It was a longing similar to the ache he’d felt before kissing Yamaa, like nothing else in the world mattered other than slaking that bone-crushing desire.

He stumbled into the bowels of the Vice Sector, letting it clamp its vicious arms around him, welcoming him home.



He had only meant to lie low, to grab a drink and nurse it slowly while he watched others play. He chose to go to the Lusty Kraken off Diamond Street, a den known for its lively band and lighthearted atmosphere. They played some of his least favorite games here: Midshipman, Tempest, Seven Fronds.

Less temptation, he hoped.

Ordering a drink of gin stained blue with a splash of butterfly pea tea, Cayo joined the onlookers at a table where the dealer was soundly beating the other players. He sipped and closed his eyes, letting the sounds of the den wash over him like a balm, the sting and velvet of the drink loosening his limbs.

That is, until he heard his name called from across the room.

He spun around and found Tomjen and the Akara twins coming at him, beaming. Tomjen wrapped him up in a hug of long, messy arms and pointy elbows, and Cayo grunted while trying not to spill his drink.

“Stop making us think you’ve died!” his friend cried, gaining the attention of the nearest onlookers.

Cayo’s face heated as he pulled the three of them toward a corner. So much for lying low. “And stop jumping to the assumption that everyone you haven’t heard from is dead.”

“Well, can you blame us?” one of the twins, Chailai, said. “What with this awful sickness going around.”

Cayo’s stomach clenched at the reminder that Soria was at home, waiting for him or his father to return. But Narin would be with her; he would make sure she took her dose of medicine before bed.

He forced himself to take a deep breath. “I’m not planning on staying long. I just wanted to”—he gestured at the den, the band setting up their instruments for a long night of music and dancing—“get away for a bit.”

“To piss with that!” Tomjen said. “What you need is a good, healthy dose of fun.”

“We’re hopping around tonight,” said the other twin, Bero. “We have the whole night planned out.”

“Join us,” Chailai pleaded, pulling on his arm.

Cayo stared at them, stared at the smiles of the patrons around them. His heart was sore from longing, the buzzing at his fingertips traveling up his arms and gripping his shoulders possessively.

Since he couldn’t go home anyway…

He downed the rest of his drink in one go, and his friends raised a victorious cheer.

“Where to next?” he asked.

They visited the Ferrier, where Tomjen bought them three rounds of shots. Cayo barely thought as he flung his back, the routine having settled into muscle memory. The alcohol momentarily numbed his tongue and burned down his throat, and he laughed at the sensation of it, the giddiness of knowing that his belly would warm and his head would lighten. That his fear would dissolve like gold paint in a glass of wine.

Everything was wrong. But here, in this moment, there was something that felt right.