Into the Still Blue (18 page)

S
omething terrible was happening to Perry.

Aria
felt
it.

“Sable! Hess!” she yelled again. “Where are you?” She pounded on the heavy steel door, screams ripping through her throat. “I’ll kill you!”

“Aria, stop.” Roar came up behind her. He wrapped her up, pinning her arms.

“Don’t touch me!” She struggled against him. “Let go! You did this!” She didn’t want to turn on him, but she couldn’t hold back. “You did this, Roar!”

He held on, and he was stronger, and she couldn’t push him away. She stopped fighting and stood, trapped against him, her muscles shaking.

“I know,” he said, when she was still. “I’m sorry. I know I did this.”

She hadn’t expected him to say that. Hadn’t expected to hear the guilt in his voice. “Just let me go.”

Roar released her and she spun, looking from his face to Soren’s, seeing their worry and fear, and suddenly tears poured from her eyes.

Her gaze cast around the small room. She needed to get away from them. With no better options, she climbed to the upper bunk and curled as close to the wall as she could, trying to keep back the sobs that tore through her.

Below, Soren said, “Do something, Outsider.”

“Are you blind?” Roar replied. “I
tried
.”

“Well, keep trying! I can’t take this.”

She felt the mattress sag. “Aria . . .” Roar’s hand rested on her shoulder, but she stiffened and moved away.

She was crying too hard to talk, and if he touched her, he would know that she hated him right now. She hated everyone. Cinder, for having been captured. Her mother, for dying. Her father, for being nothing but a figment of her imagination. Liv, because the thought of her only made Aria ache more.

Why was it so hard to bring together the people she loved and keep them safe? Why couldn’t she just wake up and spend a day—
one
day—without running or fighting or losing someone?

Most of all, she hated herself for her weakness.

This would help nothing, but she couldn’t stop. Her eyes still ran with tears. Her sleeve was soaked. Her hair. The thin mattress. She kept waiting to dry up, but the tears kept coming.

She didn’t know how much time had passed when she heard Soren.

“That almost killed me,” he said.

She’d fallen quiet, so he must have thought she was asleep.

Roar said nothing in reply.

“Are you going to eat?” Soren asked.

Food must have been delivered. She hadn’t even noticed.

“No. I’m not going to eat.” Roar’s response was icy, every word a jab.

“Me neither,” Soren said. “It doesn’t look that bad, though.”

“Your father runs this whole thing. Shouldn’t you have a private room somewhere?”

“Whatever, Outsider.”

As the quiet stretched out, Aria closed her swollen eyes. What was the point of all of their sacrifices and struggles? Why bother fighting for the Still Blue if Dwellers and Outsiders were only going to tear at each other’s throats?

She thought of the Tides and the Reverie group back in the cave. Was Willow watching Caleb make his sketches? Were Reef and the Six extracting the details of their mission from Jupiter? Or were they snapping and snarling at each other like Soren and Roar?

She didn’t want to fight just so there would be more fighting. She wanted to believe—needed to believe—that things could get better.

“So . . . that girl, Brooke?” Soren said, interrupting her thoughts. “What’s she like?”

“Get her out of your head right now,” Roar said.

Soren huffed. “I saw her looking at me when we were changing into our uniforms.”

“She was looking at you because you’re built like a bull.”

Soren’s laugh was nervous, clipped. “Is that good?”

“It’d be great if she were a cow.”

“What’s your problem, Savage?”

Aria held her breath, feeling like the future of everything hinged on Roar’s response.
Come on
, she silently pleaded.
Say something, Roar. Say anything to him
.

Roar gave a long sigh of resignation. “Brooke is a Seer, and she’s lethal with a bow. She doesn’t have the same range as Perry does, but she’s as good a shot. Maybe even better— but don’t ever tell him I said that. She comes off harsh until you get to know her, and then she’s . . . less harsh. She’s as competitive as they come and about as loyal. You already know what she looks like, so . . . that’s Brooke.”

“Thanks,” Soren said.

Hearing the smile in his voice, she smiled too.

“Oh, one other thing you should know,” Roar said. “She was with Perry for a while.”

“Nooooo,” Soren groaned. “You just ruined it for me.”

Agreed
, Aria thought.
Ruined it for me, too
.

“So, he got Brooke
and
her,” Soren continued, indignant. “How does that even happen? He barely talks!”

Roar answered smoothly, like he’d given this some thought. “He ignores girls, and it drives them mad.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious,” Soren said.

“Oh, I am. I could put on a show, I could get
everyone
laughing, but the next day I’m the one who gets the questions. ‘Why was Perry so quiet? Was he angry about something? Was he sad? What do you think he was thinking, Roar?’”

Aria bit her lip, teetering between laughing and crying. She’d been groomed into a performer, but he was a natural. Listening to him doing women’s voices was almost too much.

He went on. “Girls don’t understand that he was
being
quiet because he
is
quiet. It makes them crazy. They can’t resist trying to draw him out. They want to
fix
his quietness.”

“So, you’re saying I should ignore Brooke?” Soren asked.

“Look, I don’t think you stand a chance no matter what you do, especially now that I know you better, but yes. Ignoring her is your best move.”

“Thanks, man,” Soren said, his tone earnest. “If I see her again, I’m going to do that.”

If.

It seemed like that
if
was always there. The tick after the passing of every second.

If they got out of the Komodo—

If they reached the Still Blue—

If she saw Perry again—

She wanted the conversation to turn back to lighter things, to Roar’s stories and Soren’s sarcasm, but the moment had passed.

Aria wiped her cheeks, as though it would erase a few hours of crying from her face. She sat up, moving to the edge of her bed.

Soren sat on the lower bunk opposite her, his boxy frame propped over his knees. He was kneading his hands. Roar leaned against the bed frame, his crossed feet wiggling anxiously. Seeing her, they both froze.

She knew she must look like a mess. She felt like she had a sticky, salty film over her skin. Her eyes were almost swollen shut, she’d given herself a crying headache, and her wounded arm, her vestigial appendage, was curled tightly at her side.

It was a stupid time for vanity, considering everything that was happening, but she couldn’t remember ever feeling so pathetic.

Roar climbed up and sat beside her. He brushed her damp hair off her forehead and stared down at her with so much concern in his brown eyes that she had to fight back a fresh wave of tears.

“I hope you’re still angry with me,” he said. “I deserve it.”

She smiled. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

“Damn,” he said.

Aria looked at Soren, eager to focus on getting out of there again. “Did you talk to your father when they took you earlier?”

He nodded. “I did. He said his hands are tied. He didn’t actually use those words, but it was all this ‘Sable and I have a contract’ and ‘Sable is not one to underestimate others’ type of thing.”

She locked eyes with Roar and knew they were thinking the same thing: Hess was afraid of Sable. It didn’t surprise her. Was there
anyone
who didn’t fear Sable?

“My father said he would take me and you back,” Soren said to her. “He’ll bring us to the Still Blue. But no one else. The Hovers outside are all they have, and they’re expecting the crossing to be pure Aethery hell. He said he can’t take anyone who’d make it more difficult.”

His gaze flicked to Roar, but it wasn’t hostile. If anything, it was apologetic.

“You should go with him, Soren,” Aria said. “You did everything you could. You should save yourself.”

He shook his head. “I finish what I start.” He ran a hand over his hair and lifted his shoulders. “And anyway, I’m not going to just leave you two here.”

You two
.

It was a subtle nod to Roar, who went still at her side, absorbing it. Then he tipped his head at Soren, like they’d come to a silent understanding.

Progress
, she thought, feeling a small surge of optimism.

At least here, between these two, walls were coming down.

* * *

A short while later, the door slid open.

Loran stood at the threshold, his intense gaze settling on her. “Come with me. Quickly.”

Aria didn’t hesitate; she slipped off the bunk and followed him into the corridor.

He was alone, she noticed. Earlier he had brought two other men to escort her to the meeting, but she’d been with Roar then.

Next she noticed the quiet emptiness of the halls. She tuned her ears, unnerved. The sounds drifting through the corridors were odd: the soft groan of metal, a faint screeching sound that raised the hair along the back of her neck. She knew that sound.

“There’s a storm outside,” Loran said quietly. He walked behind her, where he could anticipate any move she made. She knew without looking that his hand rested on the gun at his belt. “The Aether’s close. Only a mile or so away. The fleet of Hovers needed to be moved to safety, so we’re at half capacity.”

He was an Aud, she realized. He had noticed her focused hearing.
Recognized
it.

“What about the Komodo?” she asked. “Are we moving?”

“The Komodo isn’t fast enough to outrun the storm. Hess says we’re better off staying put.”

She slowed, coming even with him, surprised he was telling her so much. Loran scowled, but she remembered his good-natured smile when he’d sparred with Liv.

“I saw you in Rim,” she said. “Liv liked you.”

His eyes softened. “I was lucky to have known her.”

The comment was earnest and almost tender. She studied him, her curiosity increasing. His hair was black and long enough to skim the collar of his uniform. A long, pointed nose and high eyebrows gave him a natural air of superiority. He looked older than Sable by a decade.

He pressed his lips into a grim line when he caught her staring. “You’re going to run into a wall that way. Turn right up ahead.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere. Hopefully in this lifetime, but at the pace you’re setting, that’s uncertain.”

They came to a door flanked by Horn soldiers.

“Ten minutes,” Loran told them. “
No one
comes in that room.”

One of the men by the door nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Loran’s gaze flicked to Aria, his eyebrows knitting together. She saw dread and anticipation in his expression, and horrible thoughts crashed into her mind.

Until that moment, she hadn’t been afraid of him. Now she realized how naive she’d been. Loran had shown unusual interest in her the first time he’d seen her. She’d been aware of
him
because she’d sensed his awareness of
her
. She looked from the door to him, fear turning her to stone and rendering her mute.

Loran cursed at her reaction. “Skies!
No
.” He grabbed her arm, lowering his voice. “Keep your mouth shut and don’t utter a word about this to anyone. Not a word, Aria. Understand?”

Then he shoved her into the room.

Where she found Perry.

He lay on a narrow cot on his side, asleep or unconscious. Bare, except for a sheet pulled up to his waist. White towels were piled on the floor by the cot. Even in the dim light, she could tell they were stained with blood.

Her legs wobbled as she moved closer, overcome by numbness as she took in his condition.

His arms had always been sculpted with muscle. Now they were bloated. Swollen with purple and red marks that covered his skin. They spread over his chest and stomach. Over nearly every inch of him.

In all her life, her heart had never hurt like this.

Never.

Loran spoke quietly at her side. “I considered warning you. I couldn’t decide if it would have helped or made it more difficult. He’s expected to make a full recovery. The doctors have said so.”

She turned on him, rage igniting in every cell in her body. “Did you do this?”

“No,” he said, reeling back. “I didn’t.” He moved to the door. “You have ten minutes. Not a second longer.”

When he left, Aria knelt by the bed. Her gaze went to Perry’s hands, and she had to swallow the bile that crept up her throat.

She’d always loved his hands. The way each knuckle was shaped, solid and strong, like iron held him together instead of bone. Now she saw nothing but swollen flesh. His skin was unnaturally smooth, the contours of his joints gone, the lines that made him beyond recognition.

Strangely, his face had been left untouched. His lips were chapped, and the scruff on his jaw seemed darker against the paleness of his skin, brown instead of blond.

His nose was perfectly, normally, beautifully crooked.

She leaned close, afraid to touch him, but needing to be near. “Perry . . .,” she whispered.

His eyes opened. He blinked at her slowly. “Is it you?”

She swallowed. “Yes . . . it’s me.”

He looked to the door and back, then began to rise. “How did you—” He froze and made a sound deep in his throat like he was holding back a cough.

“Stay still.” Carefully, she lay down beside him. There was just enough room for both of them on the small cot. She ached with the desire to hold him, but this was as close as she’d let herself be.

She stared into his eyes, seeing deep shadows that had never been there before. His eyes drifted shut like he was trying to hide them, almost closing. His eyelashes were dark at the roots and almost white at the tips.