Through the Ever Night (8 page)

A circle formed around him, but he kept coughing, struggling to find his breath. Finally he swiped the saltwater from his eyes.

Shame hit him hard. He was on his back, broken in front of his people.

Gren shook his head, like he couldn’t believe what had just happened. Old Will stood with Willow tucked into his side. Reef’s chest heaved, the scar across his cheek bright red. Above, the Aether turned in massive, vengeful wheels.

“His arm’s out of its socket,” Bear said.

“Pull it up and then across,” Reef said. “Slow and firm, and don’t stop, no matter what. And be quick about it. We need to get inside.”

Perry shut his eyes. Huge hands closed over his wrist; then he heard Bear’s deep voice above him. “You won’t like this, Perry.”

He didn’t.

Body shaking with nerves and cold, Perry climbed up to his loft, clutching his arm to his side. Awkwardly, hissing at the ache in his shoulder, he pulled his sopping shirt over his head and flung it across the room below. It landed with a splat on the fireplace mantel, hanging there. He lay back and drew breath after breath into his battered lungs as he watched the Aether through the open sliver in the roof. Rain dripped through it, tapping on his chest. Rolling to the mattress beneath him.

Just a few minutes. He needed some time alone before he had to face the tribe.

He closed his eyes. All he could see was Vale, making speeches. Vale, sitting at the head table of the cookhouse, calmly overseeing everything. His brother had never so much as tripped in front of the Tides. And what had Perry just done?

It was the right thing, going after Old Will
. So why couldn’t he slow down his breathing? Why did he feel like punching something?

The door swung open, banging against the stone wall with a crack and letting in a cold gust.

“Perry?” someone said from below.

Perry winced in disappointment. It wasn’t the voice he wanted to hear. The only one he’d listen to right now. Had Roar found her?

“Not now, Cinder.” Perry listened for the sound of the door closing. Seconds passed with nothing. He tried again more forcefully. “Cinder, go.”

“I wanted to explain about what happened.”

Perry sat up. Cinder stood below, soaking wet. He was holding his black cap in his hands. He looked determined and calm.

“You want to talk now?” Perry heard his father’s angry tone in his own voice. He knew he should stop himself, but he couldn’t. “You show up when you want to, and run when you don’t? Which is it going to be? If you’re staying, I’d appreciate you not burning our food.”

“I was trying to help—”

“You want to
help
?” Perry jumped down from the loft, muffling a curse as pain lanced through his arm. He strode up to Cinder, who stared up at him with wide, piercing eyes. He waved toward the open door. “Then why don’t you do something about
that
?”

Cinder glanced outside, then back at him. “That’s why you want me here? You think I can stop the Aether?”

Perry caught himself suddenly. He wasn’t thinking straight. Didn’t know what he was saying. He shook his head. “No. That’s not why.”

“Forget it!” Cinder backed away, moving toward the door. The veins at his neck had begun to glow blue, like the Aether. It seeped like branches beneath his skin, spreading up over his jaw, across his cheeks and his forehead.

Perry had seen him this way twice—on the day Cinder had burned his hand, and when he’d laid waste to a tribe of Croven—but it stunned him again.

“I never should have trusted you!” Cinder yelled.

“Wait,” Perry said. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

It was too late. Cinder spun, and shot outside.

R
oar ran up a short while later, as Aria approached the compound with Molly. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he said, wrapping Aria in a quick hug. “You made me worry.”

“Sorry about that, pretty.”

“You should be. I hate worrying.” He clutched Molly’s free arm, and together they pulled her as quickly as she could manage to the cookhouse.

Inside, the tribe was packed together, crowding at the tables and along the walls. Molly left to check on River, and Roar went to see Bear. Aria spotted Twig, the lanky Aud who’d been with her on the journey there. She slid onto the bench beside him and scanned the buzzing hall. People were in a panic over the storm, talking over one another in brittle voices, their faces tight with fear.

She wasn’t surprised to see Brooke a few tables over with Wylan, the fisherman with dark, shifty eyes who’d cursed her under his breath at Perry’s house. She saw Willow nestled between her parents, with Old Will and Flea nearby, and the rest of the Six, who never strayed far from Perry’s side. As her gaze moved from one person to the next, a sense of dread rolled through her, making her fingertips tingle. She didn’t see Perry.

Roar walked over and dropped a blanket over her shoulders. He edged Twig aside and sat beside her.

“Where is he?” she asked plainly, too anxious for caution.

“At his house. Bear said he knocked his shoulder out of joint. He’s fine.” Roar’s dark eyes flicked to her. “But it was close.”

Aria’s stomach clenched. Her ears latched onto Perry’s name drifting across the tables in a wave of whispers. She sifted through the din and grabbed onto Wylan’s spiteful tone, her eyes finding him again. A group of people had gathered around him.

“… he jumped in like an idiot. Reef had to fish him out. Almost didn’t get to him in time, either.”

“I heard he saved Old Will,” someone else said.

Wylan’s voice again. “Old Will wouldn’t have drowned! He knows the sea better than any of us. I was gonna get him on the line on my next cast. Right now I’d feel better if Flea were wearing that damned chain.”

Aria touched Roar’s arm.
Do you hear Wylan? He’s horrible
.

Roar nodded. “He’s all bluster. You’re the only one who’s actually listening to him, trust me.”

Aria wasn’t sure about that. She wove her hands together, her leg bouncing beneath the table. Both the hearths blazed, warming the hall. It smelled of damp wool and mud, and the sweat of too many bodies. People had brought treasured belongings from their homes. She saw a doll. A quilt. Baskets packed with smaller items. An image appeared in her mind of the falcon carvings on the sill in Perry’s house. Then of Perry, there alone. She should be with him.

Aether funnels struck outside, their distant shrieks carrying to her ears. Faint tremors vibrated up through the soles of her boots. She wondered if Cinder was out in the storm, but she knew that—of anyone—he’d be safe under the Aether.

“Do we just sit here?” she asked.

Roar ran a hand over his wet hair, making it spike. He nodded. “A storm this close, this is the safest place to be.”

At Marron’s, the storms hadn’t been nearly as frightening. Everyone in the compound retreated deep underground to the old mining caves of Delphi. There Marron had provisions at the ready. Even diversions, like music and games.

Another deep rumble thrummed through the floorboards. Aria looked up as dust shook loose from the rafters, sprinkling the table in front of her. In the cooking area, pots rattled softly. Nearby, Willow hugged Flea, her eyes shut tight. Aria hardly heard anyone talking now.

She reached for Roar again.
You need to do something. They’re petrified
.

Roar lifted an eyebrow. “
I
do?”

Yes, you. Perry’s not here, and I can’t. I’m a Mole, remember? No, wait. I’m a Mole tramp
.

Roar stared at her, seeming to weigh his options. “All right. But you owe me.” He crossed the room to a young man with a cobra tattoo that wove around his neck, and nodded to the guitar leaning against the wall. “Can I borrow that?”

After a moment of surprise, the young man handed over the instrument. Roar returned and sat up on the table, propping his feet on the long bench. He began testing the strings, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he adjusted the tension. He was meticulous, as she would’ve been. They both heard in perfect pitch. Anything less would’ve grated on their nerves.

“So,” he said, satisfied. “What are we singing?”

“What do you mean
we
, Roar? You’re doing it.”

He smiled. “But it’s a duet.” He played the opening notes to a song by her favorite band, Tilted Green Bottles. Over the winter he couldn’t get enough of the song. “Arctic Kitten,” a ballad, was supposed to be sung overly romantically, which made the lyrics more ridiculous than they already were.

Roar had the romantic part down. He strummed the first riffs, his dark brown eyes intent on her, his lips pulled in a subtle, seductive smile. He was joking, but it was almost enough to make her blush. Aria felt the attention of everyone on them now.

When he sang, his voice was smooth and rich with humor. “Come thaw my frozen heart, my little arctic kitten.”

Unable to resist, Aria jumped in and picked up the next line. “No chance, my yeti man, I’d rather be frostbitten.”

“Let me be your snowman. Come live in my igloo.”

“I’d rather freeze to death than hibernate with you.”

Aria couldn’t believe they were singing such a stupid song to people who were wet and scared stiff—who had Aether funnels pounding down around them. Roar bought into it fully, his hands beating a cheerful rhythm out of the strings. She forced herself to match his enthusiasm as they kept on, back and forth.

She expected the Tides to throw mugs or shoes at her at any moment. Instead she heard a muffled snort, and then, from the corner of her eye, she caught a few smiles. When they sang the chorus together—which involved some melodic purring—a few people laughed openly, and she finally relaxed, letting herself enjoy something she did well.
Very
well. She’d been singing all her life. Nothing felt more natural.

After Roar plucked the last notes, there was a beat of perfect silence before the sounds of the storm filtered back in and the chatter of the hall returned. Aria peered at the faces around her, picking up snatches of conversation.

“Barmiest song I’ve heard in all my life.”

“Funny, though.”

“What’s a yeti?”

“I’ve got no idea, but the Mole sings like an angel.”

“I heard she was the one who found River.”

“You think she’ll sing something else?”

Roar bumped his shoulder into hers. He raised an eyebrow. “So? Will she sing again?”

Aria straightened her back and filled her lungs. They thought “Arctic Kitten” was something special? They hadn’t heard anything yet.

She smiled. “Yes. She will.”

F
or the first time in months, no one noticed Perry as he stepped into the cookhouse. All eyes were fixed on Aria and Roar. He pulled himself into the shadows and leaned against the wall, gritting his teeth at the pain that shot down his arm.

Roar sat on top of one of the trestle tables at the center of the hall, playing a guitar. Beside him, Aria sang, with a relaxed smile on her lips and her head tipped to the side. Her black hair hung in wet strands that spilled over her shoulder.

Perry didn’t recognize the song, but he could tell she and Roar had sung it before by the way they were in pitch sometimes and sometimes apart, twining like birds in flight. He wasn’t surprised to see them singing together. Growing up, Roar had always turned unlikely things into songs to make Liv laugh. Sounds connected Roar and Aria, just as scents connected Scires. But another part of him couldn’t stand seeing them having fun, right after he’d almost drowned.

Across the hall, Reef and Gren saw him and came over, drawing Aria’s attention. Her voice broke off, and she gave Perry an uncertain smile. Roar’s hands stilled over the guitar, an anxious look crossing his face. The entire hall noticed Perry now, a stir sweeping across the crowded tables.

His pulse picked up, and he felt his cheeks warm. He had no doubt they knew what had happened at the jetty. That
everyone
knew. Perry saw the disappointment and worry in their expressions. Scented it in the rancy tempers that filled the hall. The Tides had always called him rash. His dive after Old Will would only reinforce that.

He crossed his arms, pain stabbing deep in his shoulder socket. “No need to stop.” He hated the hoarseness of his voice, raw after coughing and retching seawater. “Will you sing another?”

Aria answered right away, never taking her eyes off him. “Yes.”

She sang a song he knew this time—one she’d sung to him when they’d been at Marron’s together. It was a message from her. A reminder—here among hundreds of people—of a moment that had been theirs alone.

He let his head rest against the wall. Closed his eyes as he listened, pushing back the urge to go to her. To bring her close. He imagined her fitting right beneath his shoulder. Imagined the aches fading, along with the shame of having been fished out of the sea, mangled before his tribe. He imagined until it was just the two of them, alone on a rooftop again.

Hours later, Perry rose from his spot in the cookhouse. He stretched his back and rolled his shoulder, testing it. He swallowed, and confirmed that every part of him still hurt.