Ravage the Dark: 2 (Scavenge the Stars)

by Tara Sim

  Cayo looked up at the window where Avi was stationed. He caught a glimpse of the man in the corner of the window, who gave the signal that Liesl still hadn’t finished with her business.

  What’s taking her so long?

  The wine on his tongue was bright and potent. He forced himself to take only small sips, to not finish the entire flute, but it was proving difficult. It would be too easy to get another after this one, literally handed to him on a silver platter.

  But as he scouted the ballroom for signs of another server, he stopped on the figure of a young woman wearing a lavender silk gown. She was speaking with a small group in the corner, her expression serious as she cradled her glass between two gloved hands.

  It was the young woman he had seen at the fish market, the one who had generated so much hate.

  Curious, Cayo meandered toward the group, pretending to admire the pastoral artwork on the ceiling.

  “—wanted to, but Lady Georgina seems to be stitched to his side,” the young woman was complaining.

  “Well, you know her engagement broke earlier this year,” an older woman said. “She’s desperate.”

  “He won’t waste his time on someone like her,” said a man with a nasally voice. “Not when you’re such a catch, Lady Deirdre. You have a growing empire, after all.”

  “Bad choice of words, darling,” said the older woman.

  But the young woman—Lady Deirdre—laughed. “I suppose that’s one way of looking at it. I shudder to think what would become of the alchemists’ progress without their patrons.”

  Cayo frowned. Patrons? Florimond hadn’t mentioned anything about having patronage—but then again, Cayo had only been in the man’s company for a solid five hours. Alchemy was an expensive venture, so he supposed it made sense that someone like Florimond would need support.

  “Your family was smart to get involved as soon as possible,” said one of the young woman’s friends. “The investment will surely pay off, considering how the alchemists are improving their craft.”

  “Indeed,” Lady Deirdre murmured with a small smile. “And we certainly have them working hard.”

  Cayo didn’t like the way she said it, her words oily and slick with self-satisfaction. Just how many alchemists did this woman and her family play patron to?

  And what was she having them work on?

  “Lord Basque would be a fool not to partner with you,” said the nasally voiced man. “Or consider you a worthy match.”

  “Agreed. Now if only Lady Georgina would kindly peel herself off his arm…”

  “You’re not supposed to be drinking.”

  Amaya had crept up to his side, startling him. Cayo scoffed and took a sip just to vex her.

  “This is what people like me do,” he said.

  He could practically see the angry retort forming, ready to lash him like a whip. Instead, she took a step back and sighed.

  “I’m sorry I said that. I thought you’d know I wasn’t lumping you in with them.”

  “I am lumped in with them. Or at least, I was.”

  “You’re better than them, Cayo.”

  “I’m really not. Or rather, I wasn’t when you first met me.” He downed the rest of his drink in one go, welcoming the tingling, numbing sensation spreading through him. “And you took advantage of that.”

  Amaya’s eyes flitted from the empty flute to his face. She must have seen the rage there, the embarrassment.

  “You’re right,” she said softly. Her eyelashes hovered over her dark eyes, which were searching him as if searching the ocean floor for pearls. “And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did to you.”

  Cayo stood there, stunned, unsure what to do with the words. Before he could figure it out, music began to drift through the ballroom. A string quartet had set up at the far end of the room, their first stretching notes an invitation for the nobles to dance.

  The two of them stared at each other. Waiting. Debating.

  Finally, Cayo set his empty glass on one of the chairs that lined the wall and held out his hand with a small, sardonic bow. Apprehension flashed across Amaya’s face before she took his hand in her own, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor.

  Energy buzzed where their fingers connected, where Cayo placed his hand upon her hip. She put her other hand upon his shoulder, a few inches above where she had touched his chest earlier.

  And then they were moving, stepping and twirling through the sea of dancers as music filled the air. They earned stares as they danced, and Cayo wondered what they must look like—a young, handsome couple in a world all their own.

  Amaya watched him, and he watched her. He pressed his hand against her hip and felt the indent of one of her hidden knives.

  “Did you mean it?” he said softly, under the music. “Your apology?”

  “Why wouldn’t I mean it? I am sorry. Boon…” She shook her head. “He may have been the catalyst for this—and trust me, I still have a blade with his name on it—but this is my fault just as much as it is his.”

  Cayo appreciated hearing it. He had wondered if she would use Boon as a shield, but the fact that she was owning up to her own mistakes gave him hope. “I understand.”

  “You were a part of his plan simply because of who your father is. But you’re not responsible for what you didn’t know.”

  “I should have been more involved in my father’s business instead of going to the Vice Sector. I should have done anything but return to the Slum King. I should have…” He sighed. “I don’t know what I should have done.”

  “Let’s just focus on what we’re doing now,” Amaya said. “Helping Liesl. Finding the Benefactor. Saving your sister—and Moray.”

  “And my father?” he asked. “What about him? And Boon?”

  Her expression darkened to something cold and unforgiving. If her pleasant smile was Countess Yamaa and her prickly frown was Amaya, he wondered if this was Silverfish coming out to speak.

  “They’ll need to pay for everything they’ve done,” she whispered. Cayo realized then that their bodies were very close; her front was pressed to his, her words warm against his throat. “They killed my father and destroyed my life. Destroyed your life, and Soria’s, too. This won’t end until they see justice.”

  A shiver traveled through him. He wanted to protest, but one thought of Soria laid up at the hospital dispelled it. His father was responsible for that. For all of this.

  “Do you…” Amaya’s voice failed, and Cayo met her eyes again. They were a storm of danger and yearning; not for him, but for the promise of vengeance. It made his heart speed up, his grip tightening at her hip. Her breath caught, like it had at the apartment when she had applied the red powder to his eyelids.

  “Do you regret meeting me?” she finished softly.

  It wasn’t what he was expecting, and he didn’t know how to answer. Did he regret meeting her? A week ago—hells, an hour ago—he would have said yes. But it was different when he was facing her, when they were this close and he could feel her heartbeat drumming a panicked tempo.

  His gaze traveled down to her collarbone, to the swath of bare skin below. The back of his neck prickled at the idea of bending down and pressing his lips to that skin, at finding out just how warm it was. Amaya shuddered against him as if she had read his thoughts, her fingers squeezing hard into his shoulder.

  And then the song ended, and the nobles around them clapped politely for the string quartet. Cayo came back to himself and quickly stepped away from her, gulping down air as if he had been drowning. Amaya’s pupils were blown wide, her cheeks flushed as she nervously ran her hands down her skirt, fanning it out. Not looking at him but rather scanning the ballroom.

  Basque. Cayo couldn’t find the man anywhere.

  Damn it.

  He hurried to the middle of the ballroom and gave the signal to Avi, patting the top of his head as if checking his hairstyle. The man disappeared from the window.

  “Liesl’s taking too long,” Ama
ya murmured, gathering her skirt in her hands. “I’m going to find her.”

  “Wait—”

  But she was already hurrying out of the ballroom, leaving him to follow behind.

  “Ah, a lover’s quarrel?” said a tipsy noble with a hearty chuckle.

  “Shut up,” Cayo snapped in Rehanese. He barely had time to savor the man’s affronted expression before he ran out on Amaya’s heels.

  People with something to hide often find ways of flaunting it to others.

  —EMPRESS CAMILA OF THE SUN EMPIRE

  Amaya made her way toward the grand staircase, trying not to run. Her skirt swished about her legs as she walked, catching the attention of a few partygoers mingling in the entryway. She gave them a warm smile, pretending she knew exactly where she was going.

  Liesl had drawn them a simple map of the manor’s layout, but it spun through Amaya’s head now. As she crested the top of the grand staircase, she looked left and right, unsure which hallway would lead to Basque’s study.

  “Right,” said a voice behind her.

  Amaya jumped and scowled at Cayo. “What are you doing? You should stay in the ballroom.”

  “Is that all I’m good at? Socializing and eating finger foods?”

  “This is not the time for your hang-ups.” She went down the hallway on the right, the red carpet runner softening her footfalls. Cayo followed behind. “You need to stay there so that we don’t draw suspicion.”

  “Everyone’s eyes have been on you,” he countered. “If they see me without you, it’s going to look more suspicious.”

  “Then tell them the marriage is over!” Amaya picked up the pace now that no one else was around, but Cayo matched it.

  “Just admit that you don’t think I can be helpful,” he snapped.

  “What? I never said—”

  Amaya stopped and grabbed his arm. She put a finger to her lips and peered around the corner.

  The hallways of the manor were elegant and broad, with podiums displaying pottery, busts, and intricately painted plates. The doors were few and far between, but one had opened nearby. Amaya watched as two men stepped out, one closing and locking it behind him.

  André Basque.

  “You’ll have your very own ship in no time,” he was saying to the other man, placing a hand on his shoulder. “All you’ll need to do is find a capable captain to run it. But I’m more than happy to add another investor to my fleet.”

  “You’re too kind, my lord.”

  Then the two of them began to walk down the hall. Toward Amaya and Cayo.

  Amaya turned, wide-eyed, and grabbed Cayo by the lapels of his jacket.

  “Kiss me,” she hissed.

  He gaped at her. “Wh-what?”

  “I said kiss me!” she whisper-yelled as the men’s footsteps grew louder. But Cayo’s eyes were as wide as her own now, his mouth working frantically.

  “I—I can’t—”

  Amaya growled and pulled him close, her back hitting the wall behind her. Leaning up, she pressed her lips to the side of his neck.

  Cayo gasped and went very, very still. She could feel him tense against her as she kissed his neck again, his skin warm to the touch, his pulse racing under her lips. The smell of him surrounded her, reminding her of falling rain, a balmy breeze through the leaves of a palm tree.

  He started to pull away. She parted her lips and bit him.

  A soft, low moan escaped him. It vibrated through his chest and into hers, and a sudden, terrifying pressure grew in her lower belly, spreading fingers of heat through her limbs. It turned her buzzing and weak, and the small, pitiful sound that left her mouth was muffled against his neck.

  It dawned on her like a horror, the slow, creeping dread of something stalking from behind, catching her before it was too late to run: She was attracted to Cayo Mercado, the son of the man who had ruined her life.

  What god had she angered to end up like this?

  A polite cough sounded nearby. Amaya and Cayo sprung apart to find Basque and his business partner standing in the hallway. There was a semi-pained look on Basque’s face even as the other man leered at Amaya’s rumpled appearance.

  “I’m all for having a bit of fun,” Basque said with a charming smile, recovering from the surprise. “But the party is exclusively downstairs.”

  Amaya quickly threw on her silliest smile, even forcing herself to giggle. “So sorry, my lord! I was merely trying to find the amenities and got distracted.”

  “Easy mistake to make. There’s one downstairs, so you know for next time.” He glanced at Cayo’s disheveled jacket. “I’ll, ah… give you two a moment to get yourselves in order.”

  “Thank you, my lord!” Amaya said.

  Basque nodded and left with his business partner, who threw Amaya one last suggestive look. Amaya let her smile fall as soon as they were gone, hurrying toward the locked door.

  She couldn’t think about what had just happened. She refused to. Similarly, Cayo was stunned and silent at her side, breathing a little hard and eyes still wide.

  Amaya pressed herself against the door. “Liesl? Are you in there?” Surely Basque would have called for a guard if he’d spotted her.

  The door unlatched and opened from the other side. Liesl beckoned them into the darkness of Basque’s study, closing and locking the door again once they were in.

  “How did he not catch you?” Amaya demanded.

  “Avi signaled Deadshot, who whistled up a warning. I hid under the desk. If they’d walked around and spotted me… well, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  Her voice quavered slightly. Amaya held Liesl’s trembling hands in her own.

  “It’ll be all right,” Amaya said. “We haven’t been caught yet. Have you found what you needed?”

  “In a sense. I’ve gone through the whole room and barely found anything except this.” Liesl gestured them over to the window flooded with moonlight, slipping a ledger out from under her shirt.

  “He keeps diaries of sorts,” Liesl said softly, glancing at the door every now and then. Amaya had never seen her so shaken. “A culmination of business transactions and the like. It’s dated from the year Adrienne and I were…” She swallowed.

  “What does it say?” Cayo demanded.

  “That’s just it. It’s all in code.” Liesl opened the ledger, showing page after page of a language that Amaya had no familiarity with. Or maybe it wasn’t even a language—there were shapes and symbols in odd patterns. “Of course the paranoid bastard writes in code. I haven’t cracked it yet, and it’ll take time. Time we don’t have.”

  “Then let’s copy the pages dated from when you were caught,” Amaya whispered. “Quickly.”

  “I’ll do it.” Cayo held out his hands. Liesl hesitated before handing him the ledger, then turned to find some loose paper.

  “If Adrienne was made Landless like me, it could say where she was shipped to,” Liesl said as Cayo sat at Basque’s desk and began the work of transcribing by moonlight.

  “And if she wasn’t made Landless?” Amaya asked.

  Liesl glowered at the ledger filled with its strange shapes and letters. “We’ll know soon. Until then”—she turned to the nearest bookshelf—“I’m going to see if there’s any more dirt I can dig up.”

  Amaya crossed her arms and paced, occasionally looking out the window to check if Avi and Deadshot were all right. Cayo’s pen scratched against the paper, the only sound in the room other than their nervous breathing and the rustle of Liesl’s movements.

  Then Amaya heard footsteps down the hall.

  “He’s back,” she whispered sharply, gesturing for Cayo to wrap it up. “Let’s go.”

  His pen moved faster across the paper. “I have a few more lines.”

  “We’ll have to leave them,” Liesl hissed, her eyes fixed on the door as Basque’s voice reached them, muffled through the wood.

  “… sure we can reach some sort of agreement.”

  “That’s exactly w
hat I was hoping for.” A woman’s voice, high and lilting.

  Cayo stood from the chair, still writing. As the key scraped in the lock, Amaya yanked the paper away, leaving a long streak of ink in the bottom corner. Liesl grabbed the ledger and put it back where she’d found it as Amaya pushed Cayo toward the window.

  “There were two more symbols!” he argued.

  “If you want to stay and get thrown in jail, be my guest,” Amaya growled. She practically shoved him out the window onto the ledge beyond. Cayo scrabbled at the wall, swallowing a gasp as he tried not to look at the gardens below.

  Amaya crawled out after him, turning to make sure Liesl was right behind her. But the girl stood staring at the door, caressing the sheath at her hip where a dagger lay.

  “Not today,” Amaya told her.

  Liesl met her stare. It was a strange reversal of roles, Amaya thought, to be the one to tell Liesl to stay her blade. But Liesl admittedly had more sense than Amaya ever had, as she nodded in agreement and climbed out onto the ledge after her.

  She had just closed the window by the time the office door swung open. Liesl pressed her back against the wall as a lantern light glowed softly through the glass.

  Amaya exhaled and closed her eyes, leaning her head against the stone. It was cold and rough against her back, and the night air on her bare shoulders made her shiver. Her skirt fanned out around her, fluttering haphazardly in the breeze.

  The paper was still crumpled in her hand. She unceremoniously stuffed it down the front of her dress, unwilling to lose it to the wind. Cayo let out a choked sound beside her, though she was unsure if it was because of the height or her lack of decorum.

  “I must admit, I’ve been particularly jealous of your family’s business,” Basque said, his voice low and muffled through the window. “So I’m willing to learn more.”

  “Hardly a business,” the woman replied with a smile in her words. Amaya recognized the tone of flirtation, having employed it herself on more than one occasion. “If anything, I’d say it’s charity. And I know you have a soft spot for that, my lord.”