by Tara Sim
Amaya thought back to her conversation with Mercado. “Because he has other business,” she said. “He’s behind a counterfeit scheme. All the money he told us to use? To distribute throughout the city? It’s fake.”
Liesl swore. “Of course it is. I should have known better.”
“We need to leave Moray,” Deadshot said. “If Boon is planning on ruining the city, then we have no further business with it.”
“What about our cut of the money?” Avi demanded.
Amaya looked down at Fera, who had started to cry silently. Amaya wiped a tear away with her thumb, her insides twisting with guilt. She had wanted to protect them from Zharo, but was this much better?
“Cade,” she called.
Cicada came to her, tall and silent, the oldest of the remaining Bugs.
“Come with me,” she said. “Please.”
The two of them went down to the cellar beneath the estate, where they had hauled in the chests full of Boon’s gold. Amaya lit an oil lantern and examined the chests, unadorned and unassuming.
Cicada watched silently as Amaya went to the shelves of wine and selected a bottle at random. Opening a chest, she examined the contents for a moment, the coins gleaming in the lantern light.
Then she smashed the bottle against the side of the chest.
“What’re you doing?” Cicada finally demanded.
“A test,” she said.
He came closer, eyes fixed on the pile of coins now covered with wine. Amaya’s breath turned shallow as she watched the coins, waiting to have the truth unveiled.
And then, after a couple of minutes, some of the coins began to turn black at their edges.
Amaya shut the lid of the chest and closed her eyes. A wound ripped open inside her, so sudden and painful that she had to clamp her teeth down around a scream.
“What…What does it mean?” Cicada asked.
She took a few deep breaths, trying not to remember the contempt in Mercado’s voice. “This money is fake, but it should fool whoever you hand it to.” She had been saving it for her takedown of Mercado, to potentially bribe the officers at the Port’s Authority, but Boon’s arrival had negated all her plans. “I want you to use whatever remains to get all the Water Bugs home. Will you do that for me?”
He looked toward the stairs. Above their heads, Amaya knew the other children had crowded together, crying at the sight of Nian. Cicada’s dark locks swayed as he nodded.
“I’ll do it for them,” he said.
“Thank you. I want you all out of the city as soon as possible.” She stood and squeezed his arm. “Keep them safe.” Because I couldn’t.
They returned upstairs and Cicada approached the children, speaking to them in his low, calm way. Amaya knelt and hugged Fera again, her heart splintering under the force of her mistakes. The girl barely reacted.
She had been so reckless to trust Boon. To let things get this far.
Amaya glanced at the Landless, who were quietly arguing about what to do next. She approached Matthieu, who was no longer crying but looked at her with bloodshot eyes. There was no reason for a child to look so haunted, she thought.
“The man who attacked you,” she said softly. “Did you see where he went?”
The boy swallowed and shook his head, then paused. “I…I did hear him say something to the others who were with him, when we were hiding. Something about getting to a ship.”
The spots where her knives lay against her body flared with promise.
Sometimes you can only see the way forward when all other options have failed you, her father had once told her.
She ran past the Landless, who called her name in confusion, and into the swelling night.
Revenge. It was a simple word hiding a bigger meaning, a layer of glitter over grit, a silk dress over a scarred and battered body. It was a word that pumped through her blood and set the stars on fire, and she wanted to rake her hands across the sky to grab them, to let them burn down everything in her path.
Even if she had to sacrifice the city, she would not allow Boon to get away.
It was late by the time she arrived at the docks, sneaking around its perimeter so that she wouldn’t be spotted in the filmy moonlight that occasionally peeked out from the rolling clouds. There were no dockworkers at this time of night, which made the presence of a few shadowy figures all the more suspicious.
Amaya kept a knife in her hand as she slunk closer, trying to grab snippets of their conversation. They wore masks, and she would have bet her entire wardrobe that they were the rest of Boon’s Landless crew, recruited to replace Avi, Deadshot, and Liesl. They were hauling crates up onto a small frigate bearing signs of battle damage, its hull scratched and a piece of its rail missing. It bore nondescript sails, in order to look as inconspicuous as possible. Boon had very likely stolen it.
As if the thought had summoned him, Boon appeared at the railing, calling something down to the Landless that was too soft for her to make out. The sight of him sent off a spark in her gut, and her hand tightened around her knife’s hilt as her breathing grew uneven.
The best way to retaliate against pain is pain.
She would make him feel pain. She would return to him all he had done to her, payment for his lies and deceit.
But before she could rush toward the ship, a hand caught her arm. She whirled to find Avi there, a finger pressed to his lips. Liesl and Deadshot were behind him.
“We’ll take care of the masked bastards,” Avi whispered, nodding toward the dock. “You go get Boon.”
Her brow furrowed. “Why are you helping me? Isn’t he one of you?”
“He went back on his plan and abandoned us. He killed children. He’s unstable, and he needs to be stopped.”
She looked past him to the others, who nodded their resolution. Amaya’s chest briefly tightened, suddenly thankful that she wasn’t alone. Taking a deep breath, she nodded once and signaled them to go.
The three Landless slipped out before her. They were so silent that the others weren’t aware of their presence until one turned and gave a warning cry, cut short with a gurgle as Avi slit his throat.
The dock seethed with fighting. Amaya used the distraction to run to the ship, avoiding flailing arms and waving weapons as she scurried up the gangplank, unsheathing a second knife in preparation.
It ended up saving her life. She felt and heard the whoosh of air by her head and only barely managed to block the downward swing of a short sword, its blade crossing between her two.
On the other end of the sword, Boon grinned down at her.
Amaya summoned her strength and pushed him and his weapon away, hopping backward to put more space between them. Boon idly swung the sword as he stared at her, his grin turning into a displeased frown as the sound of fighting rose to the deck of the frigate.
“I was hoping to avoid this, y’know,” he said. “If you’d followed the plan, we could’ve all made a profit. Now everything’s in pieces.”
“What are you talking about?”
He pointed the sword’s tip at her. “You betrayed me, girl. You let Mercado get into your father’s Vault. You let him burn all the evidence that would’ve put him away for good!”
She shook her head slowly, heart racing. “You knew what was in my father’s Vault? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you’d’ve gone and tried to open it for yourself!” He rushed at her, and she blocked again, grunting under the impact. “Don’t lie and say you wouldn’t have.”
He was right, damn him.
“That doesn’t mean I betrayed you,” she growled, trembling under their locked blades. “He had information I didn’t!” She kicked the spot under his knee, but he seemed to have been anticipating it, for even as he stumbled he didn’t buckle completely. It was enough for her to worm away again, backing up toward the railing as moonlight striped the deck with silver fingers.
“And you’re one to talk,” she panted. “All those chests filled with counterf
eit coins. You were using me to spread them.”
He barked a laugh, his head twitching a few times. “Surprised it took you this long to figure out.”
“Why do it?” she demanded. “Any of this? Why couldn’t you just leave Moray alone?”
“I told you,” he growled. “Mercado—this city—took everything from me. My life means nothing until I can pay them back in kind.”
“At what cost? At what point do we stop trading pain for more pain?”
“Don’t get philosophical on me, girl,” he said, twirling the sword again. “You won’t like where it leads.”
A sudden clatter made her turn her head. Her breath caught at the sight of the two people tied up on the far end of the deck, the rope around their middles pressing their backs together.
“Cayo!” she called. He was gagged and bound like his sister, but he had managed to knock over a barrel to grab Amaya’s attention. His eyes were wide and pleading, his eyebrows drawn low in confusion at the scene unfolding before him.
She made to rush over to free them, but Boon got in her way and pushed her back. She deflected with her knives, aiming high then low, spinning to try to nick his shins. Ducking, weaving, feinting—those were the techniques he had built her training on. But he guessed all her moves and blocked them easily, always meeting her advances with an air of almost boredom.
Of course. He had trained her—he knew these moves because they were his own.
“That all you got in you?” he taunted.
“What are you doing with them? They’re innocent, they’re not involved in Mercado’s schemes.”
“It’s called a ransom, girl. Mercado’ll get his children back once he clears my name and pays me back what he owes me. I won’t harm a hair on their pretty heads.”
“Unlike the Water Bugs, right?” she countered, her voice wavering under the grief that suddenly gripped her. Her knees were still damp with Nian’s blood. “You showed no hesitation killing them!”
His face shuttered into a darker expression. “The fellows I hired were a bit too eager, I’ll admit.” He cocked his head toward the continuous sounds of fighting, clicking his tongue. “Sounds like they’re getting their due.”
“That doesn’t absolve you of anything. Their deaths are still your fault. And my father…”
They probably know how your father truly died. They’re probably the one who killed him.
“Did you kill him?” she whispered. “Did you kill my father?”
Boon looked at her with a sobriety that she had never seen him show before. Even the tremor in his left hand seemed to grow still. His eyes were dark and unreadable, but there was something in the lines of his face that made her ache.
“In a sense,” he said quietly, “I suppose I did.”
Amaya’s chest shook under the swelling of her lungs, her jaw clenched hard enough to ache. She launched herself at him, barely planning her attacks before she made them, hoping to throw him off course. He cursed when she got his forearm, a line of red welling from under his torn coat. But he countered expertly, driving her back and showing off moves he hadn’t had time to teach her. He knocked one of her knives away and she reeled backward, falling over a crate and rolling into a crouch on the deck.
Boon approached her slowly, sword in hand. “Face it, girl,” he said. “You’re still too weak. You have too much of Silverfish in you.”
Amaya grimaced, hatred hardening her heart. “The day we rescued you from drowning. Why were you there? Why did you have marigolds?”
Marigolds were the symbol of death and funerals in Khari. Who had Boon been mourning? Her father?
Boon almost wavered, genuinely surprised by the question. She waited for him to draw closer, crouched and ready to spring.
She had practiced what she would do if Captain Zharo ever went too far. With only a shucker or her hands as weapons, she had gone through the movements until she memorized them, hoping never to resort to using them.
It was the one move Boon hadn’t yet seen.
“You wouldn’t like the answer,” Boon said at last.
“I already don’t like anything you have to say.” A few steps nearer. Amaya’s fingers twitched. “What’s one more transgression?”
“Trust me, you’re not ready to hear it yet.”
Once Boon was close enough, she jumped. She grabbed his blade in her bare hand and jammed her elbow into the crook of his arm, loosening his grip on the hilt. She tore away with the sword in her grasp and flipped it around to point it at him.
“You’re wrong about me,” she said, blood dripping from her hand onto the deck. “Silverfish is dead, and you’ll shortly follow.”
Boon stared at her, a disbelieving smile crossing his craggy face. He barked that laugh of his and raised his hands as if in surrender.
“Point against me, I s’pose,” he said.
The sound of a loud, muffled cough broke through the humid night air. Amaya looked to Soria at the same time Boon ran for the railing.
“No!” she screamed, chasing after.
But it was too late—he jumped over the railing and dived into the water with a splash, leaving her with no other choice than to prepare to jump in after him.
Then Soria coughed again, a great heaving sound that struck Amaya with the fear that she was dying. Amaya hesitated for only a second before swearing and dropping the short sword, rushing toward Cayo and his sister.
She used her knife to hack through their bindings and tore the gag out of Soria’s mouth. The girl doubled over, shaking and coughing so hard that her entire body convulsed. Blood splattered over her lips and onto the floorboards.
Cayo wrenched his gag away, his mouth red and raw underneath. “Soria!” He knelt beside her, curving his body over hers as if that was all it took to protect her. “Soria, hold on, we’ll get you out of here.”
“She needs a doctor,” said Liesl. The three Landless had climbed onto the deck, a bit bloodied but otherwise all right.
“Boon escaped,” Amaya told them.
Avi nodded and ran off, and Amaya hoped he could track him down. But in the dark, she knew it would be all too easy for the man to slip away.
She had missed her chance.
Turning, she met Cayo’s gaze. He was looking at her as if he didn’t know her, as if he had no idea what to make of her.
And really, she thought, he didn’t know her. Not yet.
Cayo roused himself and turned to Liesl. “My sister has ash fever. No doctor in Moray can help with this.”
“What about a doctor somewhere else?”
Deadshot turned at the new voice, pistol ready, but Amaya flung out a hand to stop her.
That voice…
It can’t be.
Amaya scrambled to her feet and took a few faltering steps toward the bow of the ship, where a young, lanky man melted out of the shadows.
He grinned at her. “Hey, Sil.”
Amaya cried out and ran to him, wrapping her arms around Roach and holding him as tight as she could.
If all the world were made of gold, lies would still be richer.
—PROVERB FROM THE SUN EMPIRE
Cayo was in a nightmare.
That was the only way to explain the series of events that led him to carrying Soria down into the hold of a foreign ship, feeling the eyes of the countess on his back as he descended the stairs in the companionway.
No—not the countess. Cayo had no idea who she was.
His sister coughed weakly against him as he fumbled for the door handle the young man had told him to find, opening it to reveal a small cabin with a thin mattress on a wooden bed frame. He gently lowered Soria onto the bed, pulling down the sheets to throw them over her shivering body. Her face was dirty, her nightgown torn, and he shook with helpless fury at the man responsible for doing this to them.
Soria opened her eyes. “Cayo? Where are we?”
“We’re on a different ship. It belongs to the Rain Empire’s navy.” He took a deep breath.
“We’re leaving Moray for a bit.”
Cayo had watched as Yamaa—or whoever she was—embraced the stranger, a lanky boy wearing a naval uniform. She called him Roach, of all things.
“What are you doing here?” she had demanded, wiping tears from her face.
“Fetching you, silly. And I’m here on behalf of the Rain Empire to investigate the source of ash fever. Some cases are already popping up in Viariche.”
“Wait…” She had stepped back, looking him up and down. “Roach, what happened to you? The Bugs said you just disappeared one day!”
The young man, Roach, had sighed and scratched the back of his head. “It’s kind of embarrassing, but I was trying to sneak into a Ledese port when the Brackish was anchored off the coastline. I was worried about you and wanted to find you. But then I was caught by some naval officers and didn’t have any paperwork on me, so I was conscripted. At first I fought against it, but they gave me three meals a day and didn’t beat me, so I considered it a significant improvement.”
“Then…how did you know I was here, in Moray?”
“Because we promised to meet here, and you always talked about coming back. That, and as soon as I heard about Countess Yamaa I knew it was the sort of reckless thing you’d be part of.” He’d rolled his eyes. “Why you’re parading about as a countess, though, I have no idea.”
Soria had started coughing again, and Yamaa, or the girl who had once been Yamaa, looked over with pinched eyes.
“I’ll explain later,” she’d said. “Can you help them?”
“I can.” Roach had approached Cayo then, dropping to one knee. Cayo had stayed back, untrusting, despite the warmth in the young man’s eyes. “I can help your sister get better, but it would require leaving Moray. If you’re all right with that, then we’ll need to head to my ship before the Port’s Authority starts snooping around.”
Cayo had no idea what he was doing, or why he had agreed. As he now stared down at Soria, standing on a stranger’s ship, the immensity of what had happened flooded over him. He sat hard on the edge of the bed, barely feeling the pain of the wooden frame as it dug into his thighs.