Chapter 30
Amaya was numb, both physically and emotionally, when she reached the steps of Goldridge Estate.
It was surreal in the best and worst way; part of her longed to be home.
But here, she had to fully face the reality of Camden’s death, share the gruesome truth .
. . and negotiate her friends’ release so she wouldn’t have even more blood on her hands.
There had been so much death.
Had she really killed Vesper Corsair? It was incomprehensible, but even more incomprehensible was the fact that she felt very little remorse if she had.
What about the Maelstrom? If Corsair had been telling the truth, how many had died there?
And now Will wanted to kill Victor, whose black car sat parked outside the house.
Amaya didn’t bother knocking, simply keying in the code to the combination lock. It clicked, and she pushed the door open.
It was her home, but in her current state, Amaya felt like a street urchin walking into a palace. The entrance hall was exactly as she remembered it: too big, too still, too grand.
Except for the immediate pitter-patter of little paws.
“Daisy!” Amaya fell to her knees as her dog scampered down the stairs, overjoyed to see her.
Daisy sniffed at Will’s coat with suspicion, but ultimately leapt into Amaya’s lap, squirming and panting and begging for affection. Amaya happily obliged, scratching her ears and bending over to kiss her head.
“I missed you,” she said, squeezing the dog.
Amaya scooped Daisy up as she stood, cuddling her as she padded across the marbled floors, leaving dirty footprints in her wake.
The house was quiet, save for the emerging sound of two male voices coming from her father’s study.
Amaya didn’t announce herself right away, attuning her ear to the voices.
“I have both men in custody. The injured one should recover,” one of them said—Victor. “They’re sticking to their story. If it’s true, this may be our chance to find and apprehend Sky Lord Graven. Local law enforcement received several tips about sightings—”
“I don’t want you to find anyone except my daughter!” A fist slammed on a table, causing Amaya to wince. “What I’m struggling to understand is how you lost her.”
“I understand your frustration, and I sincerely apologize.” Victor’s voice shook. Amaya had never heard his voice shake before. He always radiated confidence. Arrogance. “Half the Royal Fleet is searching and will notify you the moment she’s found.”
“That’s not enough. Send them all.”
Amaya stepped into the open doorway. “Call them off. I’m right here.”
Benjamin Sinclair sat hunched over his desk, the hand over his eyes leaving only his mouth and gray-streaked beard visible.
Victor stood at attention, still wearing his uniform, though he now leaned on a cane.
Both of them looked toward the sound of her voice, their faces suggesting she was a mirage, or a ghost come to haunt them.
“Amaya . . . ?” Her father stood and looked her over like he couldn’t decide if she was real. She didn’t look like herself at the moment, but it only took a second for the truth to sink in. “Amaya!”
Her father nearly fell over his chair running to her, and soon, Amaya found herself caught in his warm, familiar embrace with Daisy wiggling between them.
“Oh, sweetheart. Are you all right?”
Amaya nodded. “Dad,” she squeaked, letting Daisy go and wrapping her arms around her father. She inhaled his warm scent: leather and cedar.
“Amaya, honey.” Her father pulled away and took her face in both hands. “What happened?”
Where did she begin? Cam’s death, her abduction, the Skystone, Graven, the Maelstrom, shooting Victor in the foot?
“It was Sky Lord Graven,” she choked out. “He abducted me, and then . . . and then . . .” Amaya couldn’t say it. She couldn’t say that Camden had died. She shut her eyes, leaning her forehead on her father’s chest.
“Shh.” Her father put his arms around her again. “It’s okay. Let’s get you fixed up, and then we’ll talk.”
Amaya sucked on her bottom lip, cutting a nervous glance at Victor. He worked his jaw, mouth set in a firm line—understandably pissed.
“Victor, the men you arrested. They’re okay?” Amaya asked.
“They’re alive,” he said tersely, avoiding eye contact. “For now.”
“What are you going to—”
“Amaya, please. We’ll talk about this once you’re decent,” her father said, gently ushering her into the arms of Mrs. Stone, the housekeeper.
Amaya glanced down and realized she’d let Will’s coat fall open, revealing the flimsy slip she wore and her bare legs. She flushed and pulled the coat closed.
“Don’t leave,” she told Victor. “Please.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, though he still didn’t fully look at her.
Victor’s dark tone made Amaya’s skin prickle, but his promise provided a modicum of relief as Mrs. Stone guided her from the study.
In the privacy of her washroom, Amaya scrubbed away all remnants of the lake and the Maelstrom.
She bathed with her favorite lavender-scented soap and combed through her tangled curls until they gleamed.
All of her contraband—two relics and a gun—found homes in the deep recesses of her bedside table drawer.
With that taken care of, she braided her hair to one side with a pink ribbon and asked for Mrs. Stone’s help lacing into a matching dress with puffed sleeves and tiny, embroidered yellow flowers.
It was an intentional choice—a costume for the role she needed to play.
Winning Victor over again would require convincing him that she’d been so terrified she barely knew what had happened at Starcrest Peak.
She wasn’t wild or dangerous. She was a quiet, fragile, demure young woman who got caught up in something far too big for her.
The thought made her want to shred the dress to ribbons, but it shouldn’t be a stretch. That was exactly what Victor had always wanted her to be. Once she manipulated herself back into his good graces, she’d make her plea for the pirates’ release.
The biggest variable in her plan was the story Sebastian and Edmund were spinning. Victor had already deduced they were pirates, but she’d need to tease out what else they’d told him before she went making any claims.
Amaya checked her hair for the third time and dabbed a bit of color on her cheeks and lips.
So what if you shot him? she thought, giving herself a mental pep talk as she rolled mascara onto her eyelashes. You’re his key to high society; of course he still wants you. Father will believe whatever you say. You can do this.
Victor and Amaya’s father sat in the parlor, each with a glass of red wine. Her father beamed when Amaya walked in, carrying Daisy and looking much more like her regular self.
“Feeling better?” he asked, standing and walking her to the sofa where Victor sat. Amaya perched on the edge of the cushion, a respectable distance away from Victor, and nodded as her father sank into his large, plush armchair.
“Much better.” Amaya positioned Daisy to sit between her and Victor and leaned over to the coffee table, pouring herself a generous glass of wine and swirling it.
Going from here to the skies and back had distorted everything in a kind of cultural whiplash she hadn’t expected. Everything seemed candy-coated and artificial, even herself.
Tense, awkward silence filled the room. No one wanted to breach any of the gargantuan topics begging discussion, but they couldn’t speak of anything lighter before dealing with them.
Amaya steeled her nerves and spoke first. “I suppose you’d like to hear what happened?”
“Of course. Whenever you’re ready,” her father said. “You said Alastor Graven was responsible? The Sky Lord?”
“Yes.” That was as good a starting place as any. Amaya took a deep breath and began her story, selecting every word carefully. “I was abducted by Vesper Corsair, Sky Lord Graven’s spymaster. They were after Mom’s necklace . . . they believed it to be some sort of ancient sky pirate treasure.”
Victor scoffed. “How absurd.”
Amaya shot Victor an irritated glare, but caught herself and softened her gaze.
“I thought so too, but they were convinced. They assumed I knew something they didn’t, so they kept me.”
“Did they hurt you?” her father asked.
Amaya shook her head.
“No. They just threatened me, fired shots past my head, that sort of thing. But I kept waiting for them to do worse, because . . .” Her voice broke. Just get it over with. “Because Corsair killed Camden Hargreeves the night we were taken. I saw it. And I thought they might kill me, too.”
Amaya’s hands trembled, but she wasn’t acting now. She set her wineglass down on the table to avoid spilling it and dragged Daisy back onto her lap, stroking her soft fur.
The silence returned, heavier this time.
“Amaya . . .” Victor said finally. “Camden Hargreeves hasn’t been found.”
His words twisted Amaya’s brittle nerves, cracking them. They stayed intact, but barely.
“We thought you may have run away with him,” said her father.
His comment left an open question—had she?
“No.” Amaya shook her head. She’d expected and mentally prepared for this question. “No. We received fake invitations to the Midnight Symphony and snuck out to go together. Then we were attacked.”
She didn’t have the heart to damage Camden’s reputation by confessing that he’d been the one to trick Amaya in order to spare Grace’s life. Even though thinking about that stung, Amaya couldn’t find it in herself to hold it against him.
She was still alive. Grace was still alive. It was Camden who’d been killed.
“Someone needs to tell his family, and we should arrange a search and a service or . . .” Amaya squeezed Daisy as if the dog could fill the gaping hole in her heart. Her face grew hot, her eyes stinging. Her breath rattled from the effort it took not to burst into tears.