Through the Ever Night (4 page)

She had no place of her own now, she realized. No
things
like the falcon figurines on the windowsill. No objects to prove she existed. All her belongings were virtual, kept in the Realms. They weren’t real. She didn’t even have a mother anymore.

A feeling of weightlessness came over her. Like a balloon that had slipped free from its tether, she was floating, made of nothing more than air.

“You hungry?” Roar asked behind her, oblivious, his tone light and cheerful as always. “We usually eat in the cookhouse, but I could bring something for us here.”

She turned. Roar rested a hip against the table, his arms crossed. He wore black from head to toe, like she did.

He smiled. “Not as comfortable as Marron’s, is it?”

They’d spent the past months there together while he’d healed from a leg wound. While she’d healed from deeper wounds. Little by little, one day after another, they’d brought each other back.

Roar’s smile widened. “I know. You missed me.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s barely been three weeks since I saw you.”

“Miserable stretch of time,” he said. “So, food?”

Aria glanced at the door. She couldn’t hide if she wanted the Tides to accept her. She had to face them directly. She nodded. “Lead the way.”

“Her skin’s too smooth—like an eel.”

The voice, dripping with malice, carried to Aria’s ears.

The tribe had begun to gossip about her before she’d even taken a seat with Roar at one of the tables. She picked up the heavy spoon and stirred the bowl of stew in front of her, trying to focus on other things.

The cookhouse was a rough-hewn structure, part medieval hall, part hunting lodge. It was packed with long trestle tables and candles. Two massive fireplaces roared on either side. Children chased each other around the perimeter, their voices mixing with the gurgle of boiling water and the crackle of the fires. With the clanking of spoons and the slurps of people talking, eating, drinking. A belch. Laughter. The bark of a dog. All of it amplified by thick stone walls. Despite the racket, she couldn’t help isolating the cruel whispering voices.

Two young women carried on a conversation the next table over. One was a pretty blonde with bright blue eyes. The same girl who’d been watching Aria as she’d entered Perry’s house. That had to be Brooke. Her younger sister, Clara, was in Reverie, too. Vale had sold her off like Talon, in exchange for food for the Tides.

“I thought Dwellers died when they breathed outside air,” Brooke whispered, her gaze on Aria.

“They do,” said the other girl, “but I heard she’s only half Mole.”

“Someone actually bred with a Dweller?”

Aria’s grip tightened around the spoon. They were slandering her mother, who was dead, and her father, who was a mystery. Then it hit her. The Tides would say the same things about her and Perry, if they knew the truth. They’d talk about them
breeding
.

“Perry said she’s going to be Marked.”

“A Mole with a Sense,” Brooke said. “Unbelievable. What is she?”

“An Aud, I think.”

“That means she can hear us.”

Laughter.

Aria gritted her teeth at the sound. Roar, who’d been sitting quietly by her side, leaned toward her.

“Listen closely,” he whispered into her ear. “This is the most important thing you need to know while you’re here.” She stared at the bowl of stew in front of her, her heart slamming into her ribs.

“Do
not
eat the haddock. They’ve been overcooking it terribly.”

She jabbed her elbow into his ribs.
“Roar.”

“I’m serious. It’s as tough as leather.” Roar looked across the table. “Isn’t it true, Old Will?” he said to a grizzled man with a shockingly white beard.

Though Aria had been on the outside for months, she still marveled at wrinkles and scars and signs of age. She’d thought them disgusting once. Now the man’s leathery face almost made her smile. Bodies on the outside wore experiences like souvenirs.

Willow, the girl Aria had met earlier, sat beside him. Aria felt a weight settle on her boot and looked down to see Flea.

“Grandpa, Roar asked you something,” Willow said.

The older man cocked his ear toward Roar. “What was that, pretty?”

Roar raised his voice in answer. “I was telling
Aria
here not to eat the
haddock
.”

Old Will studied her, his lips pursed in a sour expression. Aria’s cheeks warmed as she waited for his reaction. It was one thing to hear whispers, but another to be shunned to her face.

“I’m seventy,” he said finally. “Seventy years old and going strong.”

“Old Will isn’t an Aud,” Roar whispered.

“I got that, thanks. Did he just call you pretty?”

Roar nodded, chewing. “Can you blame him?”

Her eyes moved over his even features. “No. I really can’t,” she said, though
pretty
didn’t quite fit Roar’s dark looks.

“So you’re getting Markings,” he said. “How about I vouch for you?”

“I thought Perry—Peregrine was going to?” Aria said.

“Perry will warrant them, and he’ll preside over the ceremony, but that’s only one part of it. The part only a Blood Lord can do.”

The stout woman on Roar’s opposite side leaned forward. “Someone with your same Sense needs to take an oath swearing that your hearing is true. If you’re an Aud, only another Aud can do that.”

Aria smiled, noting the emphasis the woman placed on the word
if
. “I am an Aud, so that’ll be the case.”

The woman studied her with eyes the color of honey. She seemed to decide something, because the grim set of her mouth softened. “I’m Molly.”

“Molly is our healer, and Bear’s wife,” Roar said. “Much fiercer than the big man, though, aren’t you, Molly?” He turned back to Aria. “So it should be me doing the vouching, don’t you think? I’m perfect for it. I’ve taught you everything.”

Aria shook her head, trying not to smile. Truly, Roar was the perfect choice. He
had
taught her all she knew about sounds—and knives. “Everything except modesty.”

He made a face. “Who needs that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you do, pretty.”

“Nonsense,” he said, and tucked back into his food.

Aria forced herself to do the same. The stew was a tasty mix of barley and whitefish, but she couldn’t eat more than a few bites. Not only was the tribe whispering about her, but she felt them gawking, watching every move she made.

She set her spoon down and reached beneath the table, petting Flea on the head. He blinked at her, shifting closer. He had an intelligent expression absent from dogs in the Realms. She hadn’t realized animals had such distinct personalities. It was just another one of the endless differences between her old life and her new one. She wondered if the Tides would change their minds about her, as Flea had.

Aria looked up as the chatter in the hall quieted. Perry came through the door with three young men. Blond and tall, two resembled Perry in their muscular build. Hyde and Hayden, she guessed. The third, a few steps behind them and a head shorter, could only be Straggler. They all carried themselves like Seers: bows across their backs, their posture tall, and their eyes scanning.

Perry spotted her immediately. He tipped his head—a safe acknowledgment between allies, but it left her holding her breath, wanting more. Then he took a table by the door with the brothers, disappearing into a sea of heads. Moments later, the cruel voices drifted back to her ears.

“She doesn’t look real. I bet she wouldn’t even bleed if you cut her.”

“Let’s try it. Just a little nick to see if it’s true.”

Aria followed the voice. Brooke’s blue eyes bored into her. Aria placed her hand on Roar’s wrist, grateful for his unique ability. He could hear thoughts through touch. She’d barely been fazed when she discovered that about him. It didn’t feel much different from the Smarteye she’d worn her entire life, which worked by a similar process—by hearing thought patterns through physical contact.

That’s Perry’s girl,
she thought to him.
Isn’t it?

Roar stilled, his spoon halfway to his mouth. “No … I’m pretty sure that would be
you
.”

She’s evil. I might want to hurt her
.

Roar grinned. “That I want to see.”

“Look at her.” It was Brooke’s voice again. “She’s moving in on Roar. I know you can hear me, Mole. You’re wasting your time on him. He’s Liv’s.”

Aria snatched her hand away from his wrist. Roar sighed, his eyes sliding over to her. He set his spoon down and pushed his bowl away. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. I want to show you something.”

She pulled her legs from beneath the table and followed him, keeping her focus on Roar’s back. As she passed Perry, she slowed, allowing herself a glance. He was listening to Reef, across from him, but his eyes flicked up, meeting hers.

She wished she could tell him how much she missed him. How much she wanted to be the one sitting with him. Then she realized that through her temper, she had.

Roar led her along a trail that wove through sand dunes. Aether light filtered through the clouds, casting a glow over the path and the tall, rustling grass. As they walked, a rushing sound mixed with the low whistle of the wind. It moved through her—hiss and whisper and roar—growing louder and clearer with every step she took.

Aria stopped as they came over the last dune. The ocean stretched out before her, alive, spreading to the end of everything. She heard a million waves, each one distinct, ferocious, but together a chorus that was serene and grander than anything she’d ever known. She’d seen the ocean plenty of times in the Realms, but it hadn’t prepared her for the real thing.

“If beauty had a sound, this would be it.”

“I knew it would help,” Roar said, his smile a white flash in the darkness. “Auds say the sea holds every sound that’s ever been heard. All you have to do is listen.”

“I didn’t know that.” She closed her eyes, letting the sound wash over her, and listened for her mother’s voice. Where were Lumina’s calm assurances that patience and logic would solve any problem? She didn’t hear them, but she believed they were there. Aria glanced at Roar, pushing away the grief. “See? You haven’t taught me everything.”

“True,” Roar said. “I can’t run the risk of boring you.”

They walked closer to the water together. Then Roar sat, leaning back on his elbows. “So what’s with the act?”

Aria sat next to him. “It’s for the best,” she said, digging her fingers into the sand. The top layer still held the day’s warmth, but beneath it was cool and damp. She drizzled it over Roar’s knee. “You heard how they hate me. Imagine if they knew Perry and I were together.” She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“What don’t you know?” Roar smiled like he was about to tease her. The moment felt utterly familiar, though they’d never been here before. How many times had they talked about Perry and Liv over the winter?

Aria poured another handful of sand on his knee, listening to the delicate drizzle beneath the crash of the surf. “It was my idea. It’s the safest way, but it’s strange pretending to be something different. It’s like there’s a glass wall between us. Like I can’t touch him or … reach him. I don’t like the way it feels.”

Roar wiggled his knee, upsetting her sand pile. “Does his voice still sound like smoke and fire?”

Aria rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why I told you that.”

He tipped his head to the side in a gesture that was pure Perry, putting a hand over his heart, which wasn’t. “Aria, your scent … it’s like a blooming flower.” He modulated his voice perfectly to sound like Perry’s deep drawl. “Come here, my sweet rose.”

Aria jabbed him in the shoulder, which only made him laugh. “It’s
violet
. And you’re going to pay when I meet Liv.”

Roar’s smile vanished. He ran a hand over his dark hair and sat up, growing quiet as he stared at the breaking waves.

“Still no word?” she asked quietly. When Perry’s sister had disappeared last spring, she’d left Roar heartbroken.

He shook his head. “No word.”

Aria sat up, brushing off her hands. “There will be soon. She’ll turn up.” She wished she hadn’t mentioned Liv. Roar had to feel her absence more than ever here, where they’d both grown up.

She looked across the ocean. Deep in the distance, clouds pulsed with glaring light. Aether funnels were striking. Aria couldn’t imagine being out there. Perry had told her once that rogue storms were always a danger at sea. She didn’t know how the Tides’ fishermen found the courage to go out every day.

“You know, glass is pretty easy to break, Aria.” Roar was watching her, his gaze thoughtful.

“You’re right.” How could she complain? She had it so much easier than he did. At least she and Perry were in the same place. “You’ve convinced me. I’m going to break the glass, Roar. Next chance I get.”

“Good.
Shatter
it.”

“I will. And you will too, when we find Liv.” She waited for him to agree—wanted him to—but Roar changed the subject.

“Does Hess know you’ve come here?”