by Tara Sim
“Mr. Lin—”
He reached the bed, nearly fell on top of it. Soria was struggling for breath, her inhalations weak and raspy, her eyes closed and sunken in her face. The gray had spread even more across her throat, like a possession.
“I’m afraid she’s gone into a kind of shock.” Mother Hilas exchanged a glance with the other nurse, who shook her head. “This usually happens when a patient either breaks the fever or…” She sighed. “We will monitor her, of course, but I’m afraid there’s nothing else we can do now.”
Cayo couldn’t even understand the words. He just kept staring at Soria, at the struggle of her rising and falling chest, the faint sheen of sweat at her hairline.
The floorboards creaked behind him. “Can you give him some privacy?” Amaya.
“Of course.” Mother Hilas touched his arm and left, but the other nurse stayed just outside the door.
Cayo crawled onto the bed beside his sister. Soria had done this when she was very little, deciding to come to him rather than their parents if she’d had a nightmare. He would put on plays with her toy animals, making her laugh, putting her back at ease.
But now there was nothing he could do. He gently wrapped his arms around her, brushing her hair back, feeling just how warm her body had become.
“Soria,” he whispered. “I’m here.” His words caught. He traced his fingers against the edges of the gray markings, wanting to soothe them away, to burn out the infection inside her.
He thought he saw her eyelids flutter, her lips twitch. As if she wanted to speak and couldn’t.
“You can do this,” he whispered, barely aware of the tears that fell against her cheek. Faintly he remembered his mother’s nightgown dampened with his tears as she lay just like this, years ago, before she’d been lost to them forever. “You can fight this. If you do, I’ll get you a new dress. A whole wardrobe of them. Just… please…”
He put his forehead against hers, whispering encouragement, whispering words of love, as if that could make up for the lack of proper medicine, make up for the pain their father had inflicted upon them.
He didn’t know how long he lay there with her, how many memories and stories he told to give her company, to let her know she wasn’t alone. The nurse came in to check on her once or twice, but he barely noticed. His lips were dry and chapped, his voice hoarse, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t dare stop.
Soria’s breathing grew quicker. Shallower. Her body began to lose its burning warmth, began to shake.
“Hey,” Cayo said, holding her face in his hands. “Soria, breathe. Soria, listen to me—just breathe, all right?”
He couldn’t help her. He couldn’t do anything. He was useless.
She shook and choked, the pulse at her neck jumping frantically, her fingers twitching, her limbs seizing—
And then she lay still.
It wasn’t the slow transition from awake to asleep, but rather a violent letting go, all her strings cut at once. Her head lolled against his hand, her lips parted even though no breath came in or out.
At first all he could do was stare. He brushed a thumb against her cheek, waiting for her to look at him, to perhaps sigh or ask for water.
The world compressed around him. A single span of a heartbeat encased in glass, an impossible, intolerable thing, best not looked at directly. It had lingered in the corner of his eye, and he had kept his head turned away, refusing to acknowledge its existence. Because it wasn’t real. It wasn’t possible.
But then the glass shattered.
The impossible became real.
His sister was dead.
When I think back to those black skies and gray waters, I can’t help but regret. He’s down there in those depths, waiting for me. I will join him soon.
—DIARY OF AN UNKNOWN SAILOR, FOUND ON AN EMPTY BOAT
The scream that tore from Cayo’s throat split Amaya in half.
She took a step back, pressing a hand against her mouth as if to stifle her own scream. It had happened so quickly, almost too quickly to process, but there could only be one reason Soria had grown so still.
She was gone.
The nurse rushed into the room, but there was no point. Cayo clung to Soria and buried his face against her neck, back heaving as he wept, refusing to let the nurse or Mother Hilas get near her.
Mercado had done this. Soria had been poisoned by her own father, left to die in a foreign country without any promise of a cure.
Amaya balled her hands into fists, baring her teeth against the sobs climbing up her throat. She would make him pay, him and Boon both. She wouldn’t rest until their blood coated her blades.
But even that wouldn’t bring Soria back.
“Mr. Lin, please,” Mother Hilas was saying, trying to draw Cayo away.
“Don’t touch me!” he yelled, clinging tighter to Soria’s body. “Don’t touch her!”
The nurses turned to Amaya, despairing. She felt weak and insubstantial as she approached the bed, her throat tightening painfully at the sight of Soria’s still face.
“Cayo,” she whispered, resting trembling hands on his back. He shook violently, each sob like a drum being struck in his chest and vibrating against her palms. She pressed her forehead to the space between his shoulder blades, tangled her fingers in his shirt. “Cayo, you have to let her go.”
She couldn’t tell if he’d heard her, if any of it had gotten past the thick shell of his grief. She was again standing on the deck of the Brackish, being told by Zharo that her mother was dead. That there would be no one greeting her in Moray. That her family was gone, with no one left to love her.
Her tears dampened Cayo’s shirt as she took an uneven breath. Amaya reached for Soria’s neck, just to be sure. No pulse. Nothing.
Gone.
She turned back to the nurses. “Can you just… give him a moment?”
Mother Hilas nodded and they left to wait outside the room. Amaya’s legs gave out and she sat on the edge of the bed, mindlessly rubbing Cayo’s back as he expelled the same furious heartache she herself had been through.
Cayo would never forgive his father after this, and she doubted Kamon Mercado would find any worth in that forgiveness anyway.
The two of them were alone now in this desperate, greedy world. At last, they had something in common.
The apartment was hushed the next day, the table coated with gray morning light. It swept over the chipped mugs and the open container of biscuits, which they vaguely nibbled on.
Amaya hadn’t slept. She had stayed at the hospital with Cayo, sitting by his side while Mother Hilas helped them figure out what came next. There had been talk of cremation, of burial, of shipping the body back to Moray. Cayo had been blank faced and silent, staring at nothing.
“You have to choose one,” Amaya had murmured.
Cayo had roused himself slightly, lips parted, but nothing had come out. His breath had hitched, his red-rimmed eyes filling with overwhelmed tears.
He should have never had to make a decision like this. Amaya hadn’t even gotten the choice—didn’t know what had become of her mother’s body. The thought punched a hole through her, too dangerous to come near lest she risk being sucked into it.
But she knew which one she would have chosen. What the common practice was in Moray.
“Cremation?” she guessed.
Cayo had nodded, and he had signed the papers, and he had left to tell his sister goodbye for the last time.
“You can come back tomorrow to pick up the ashes,” Mother Hilas had told her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I’m truly sorry for your loss.”
Amaya appreciated the woman’s efficiency. She had no doubt been through this too many times to count. But the pain in her eyes was not faked in the slightest. So Amaya had thanked her, and she had brought Cayo home, where he had taken to his bed without a word.
“I don’t know what to do,” Amaya whispered now. Liesl was gazing at the tabletop, holding hands with Deadshot. Avi sat wi
th his hand around his mug, but he hadn’t taken a single sip. “What… What do we do?”
Liesl stirred. “We continue with the plan. We take the counterfeits out of circulation. We try to prevent more deaths.”
“But Cayo…”
Avi sighed, rubbing a spot near his hip. “He won’t be able to help us in this state. Nor would we want to force him. Maybe it’s time for him to go back to Moray.”
“On his own? Where his father is?”
“I doubt he’ll want to stick around here. Besides, he’ll likely want to scatter his sister’s ashes at home.”
They fell back into silence. Amaya couldn’t take any more of it and decided to spend the rest of the day wandering the city, letting the wind nip at her skin and remind her she was alive. That she felt, and that it was a welcome and terrible burden.
She even went by Boon’s hut again, but it was still abandoned, and there were whispers that the Ghost Ship had mysteriously vanished from the harbor.
When she came back to the apartment, evening had fallen over Baleine. She opened the door to the boys’ bedroom, wanting to check if Cayo had eaten anything.
But he wasn’t there.
Her heart gave a sudden thud. Was he at the hospital? Had he gone back to the Casino District? She checked his side of the bedroom and found his pistol; he wouldn’t have gone far without that.
She ran up to the roof, but it was empty. She scoured every floor of the tenement building, praying he was here somewhere, that he hadn’t gone off unarmed to embrace a senseless night of debauchery to staunch the pain.
Then she remembered: the building had a basement.
She heaved the old, heavy door open and stumbled into the darkness. There was a lantern lit in the far corner, casting tendrils of orange light across the walls, piles of covered and broken furniture, and a floor in dire need of sweeping.
Cayo sat at the base of the wall with a bottle in his lap. Amaya held back a curse as she carefully approached him, as if he had turned into a feral tiger. But he barely acknowledged her. He barely did anything but sit there, cradling a bottle of what looked like lupseh.
“Cayo,” she said softly.
His eyelashes twitched slightly. It was then she noticed the bottle wasn’t open—none of it had been drunk. Relief washing over her, Amaya crouched before him and put a hand on the bottle.
“May I have this?” she asked.
He let go, and she moved the lupseh several feet away. Then she sat beside him, surrounded by the basement’s damp, musty smell.
The lantern caressed Cayo’s face with highlights of gold. His hair was limp and unwashed, his eyes red and swollen, but there was something untouchable about him, as if he had stepped out of a painting. Perhaps it was how he sat so still, the expression on his face unfaltering.
“You didn’t drink anything,” Amaya said. It was better than saying I’m sorry again.
Cayo took in a breath, let it out slowly. “What’s the point?”
Amaya chewed her lower lip. She had woken up crying several times during the months she’d trained with Boon and the Landless, after dreams about her mother welcoming her home, or of Amaya finding her body washed up onshore. There were hardly any words to describe the unbearable truth of humanity—that people were there and then gone, and that you had to live on in the aftermath. That life would never be the same, and that’s just how it was.
Unfair. Uncompromising. Unforgiving.
Liesl had tried to talk to Amaya about it, but Amaya had never been ready. Cayo was far from ready; only time would help with that.
So instead, she spoke of something else.
“We need to talk about what happened at the casino,” she said.
Cayo actually turned to look at her, only a hint of confusion in his pain-deadened eyes.
“I’m sorry that I hit you.” She twisted her mother’s jade ring on her finger. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there in time. That you were left to feel like you were on your own, or that I didn’t care. I did. But I…”
Like on the rooftop with Avi, the words stuck in her throat, refusing to be voiced. How could she possibly tell him who Boon truly was when she hadn’t even come to terms with it? When the pain was still so sharp she risked getting cut with one wrong move?
Cayo was silent for so long she thought he wouldn’t bother to respond. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and hoarse.
“I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I was upset. I…” He closed his eyes, tears rolling down his face. “I didn’t realize how much I needed you.”
The words were like a fishhook through her stomach. Amaya pulled her knees up to her chest.
“I understand why you did it,” she whispered. “Everything you did was for Soria. I know how much she means—meant—to you.” She rubbed at her damp eyes. “It’s the only way you knew how to fight, so you fought. And you lost. I understand.”
He exhaled a breathy, mirthless laugh. “I fought for her, and I lost her.” A pained sound escaped his throat as he leaned his head back against the wall. “Now there’s nothing.”
“It feels that way now, but it won’t forever.” Amaya interlaced her fingers, clasping her hands so tight her knuckles paled. “There’s still good to do in this world, Cayo. We can get justice for Soria.”
“How?” The word was flat, almost cruel. “You saw what happens when I try to help.”
“You’re not the only one at fault here. I left you on your own. I used you again. Because you’re right—I want to make up for my mistakes, and I thought that tournament was the way to do it. But I was wrong.”
She had been going over their argument since that night, all the horrible words and accusations, the way causing him pain felt as if it were the only way to siphon off her own.
But she didn’t want him to be in pain. If she could touch the bruise at his jaw and make it disappear, she would. If she could hold Soria’s ashes and turn her back into a living girl, she would.
Cayo was looking at her now, studying her. She stared back.
“I still shouldn’t have said what I did,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry.”
She twisted her mother’s ring. “You were upset. I get it.”
They sat in silence for a few moments, their heads turned toward each other, not looking at each other.
“Why is this so difficult?” Cayo whispered.
Tears had begun trailing silently down his cheeks again. He closed his eyes tight, face crumpling as the grief took over. Amaya remembered it always being heaviest at night, like a fever, or the ocean’s tide.
He sobbed quietly, and she moved closer. She recalled the way her parents had once held her, wrapping her in their arms, shielding her from the world. Cayo’s head dropped to her shoulder, and she curled an arm around him. Refusing to let anything near. Guarding him from whatever sought to do him harm.
She couldn’t protect him from herself, but maybe she didn’t need to anymore.
When they returned to the apartment, Amaya wasn’t surprised to find Remy inside.
“I’m so sorry,” Remy said. “I know that’s not enough, but I am.”
Cayo regarded him wearily. “Thank you. For telling me.”
Remy nodded. “I wish things had gone differently. That the medicine had…” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
“It’s not your fault.”
“Has something happened?” Amaya asked to shift the focus away from Cayo.
“I used the information Liesl gave me about Francis Florimond as an anonymous tip. His shop was raided earlier today. They found letters implicating Kamon Mercado and the Benefactor, as well as a bunch of brinies, but that’s where the trail goes cold again. We still don’t know who the Benefactor is, and now Florimond’s taken off, so we can’t get more information out of him.”
Amaya avoided meeting eyes with the others. Remy didn’t have to know that Florimond had taken his own life.
“Deirdre—” Amaya started, but Liesl waved a hand t
hrough the air.
“I don’t think she’s the Benefactor,” Liesl said. It sounded like it pained her to admit. “There’s too much conflicting evidence.”
Liesl spared a glance at Cayo. “Something has to change. The longer we’re here, the deeper Moray falls into debt. The fever is rampaging worse than it was before, causing panic like what happened at the market yesterday, and Moray is practically hemorrhaging money.”
Remy nodded. “And like the sharks they are, the Sun Empire’s scented the blood. There have been reports of their ships near Crescent Bay. They’re scouting Moray’s waters and the land borders to determine if and when they can descend.”
Amaya swore. “What do you think will happen?”
“I overheard some of the officers discussing it.” Remy drummed his fingers against the table. “If this continues, both empires could make their bid for Moray, and the city will become a war zone. If ash fever continues to spread in the Rain Empire, then it’s only a matter of time until it begins to fall as well. And there’s no telling what sides Rehan and Khari will take, or if the fever will make its way to the Sun Empire.”
Liesl began to pace slowly. Deadshot kept a hand on one of her pistols, as if to draw comfort from it. Avi merely stared at the floor.
“Any leads we’ve gotten about the Benefactor have now gone cold,” Remy went on. “Whoever this person is, whether it’s Deirdre or Florimond, they’re clever enough to erase their trail completely. Which means we need to turn our focus elsewhere.”
While the others argued over what the next step would be, Amaya slunk back to her room. Florimond had killed himself. Boon was gone again. Deirdre was a dead end. Soria had succumbed to the fever before a cure could be found.
What good had she done here? Had she hindered more than she had helped?
I helped set the debtors on the Silver Star free, she thought. I helped Liesl save her sister. If nothing else, that had been worth it. It had been worth it to use her skills to help others, to put aside her vengeance for once and focus instead on improving others’ lives.
