They surged forward together, feet gliding, devouring the stone hall. They’d either avoid the guards or run right into them.
They reached the end just as a pair of guards came around the corner, and then they moved like they’d rehearsed it. Roar lunged for the largest man, closest to him. Aria sprang on the other.
She rammed the horn into the guard’s temple. The strike was solid, the impact jarring, shooting up her arm. The man rocked back, stunned. She grasped the knife at his belt and drew it, ready for her second strike. Ready to cut. But his eyes rolled back, and he was fading. She jammed the hilt of the knife into his jaw, knocking him out, and still had time to grasp the sleeve of his uniform, softening the sound of his fall.
For an instant she stared at the guard—at his ruddy complexion and slack mouth—soundly defeated on the floor, and she felt a confidence that a tattoo could never give her. She turned to see Roar straighten over the other guard’s body. He slid a knife into his belt, his dark eyes flicking to hers, cool and focused. He tipped his chin, gesturing down the hall, and then hoisted the man he’d slain up over his shoulder.
Aria couldn’t carry the other guard alone, and there was no time to second-guess. She sprinted for Liv’s room. Pulling herself short at Liv’s door, she grasped the iron handle, and stepped inside.
Light from the hall spilled into the darkened room. Liv lay on her bed, awake, on top of the covers. When she saw Aria, she shot to her feet, landing on the floor with a quiet thump. She wore her day clothes, down to her boots.
Liv looked from Aria to the door. Then she bolted into the hall without uttering a word. Aria shot after her. They passed Roar, carrying the guard over his shoulder. Silently, Liv held the man Aria had knocked out beneath the arms. Aria took him by his feet. Together, they carried him into Liv’s room and set him down against the wall, where Roar had set the other man. Aria darted back to the open door. Carefully, she eased it closed, listening to the hardware click softly into place.
Then she turned and saw Roar and Liv locked in an embrace.
31
PEREGRINE
Perry sat in the cookhouse after supper in a daze, his mind stuck on Aria. She hadn’t betrayed him. She wasn’t with Roar. He hadn’t lost her. The thoughts ran through his mind in an endless cycle.
The Aether had built all day, leaving everyone anxious, waiting for the storm to hit. Reef and Marron sat at his sides, both of them quiet. Nearby, Kirra talked with her men, speaking in quiet tones.
Only Willow carried on normally. She was across from Perry at the table, chattering to Cinder about the day she’d found Flea.
“It was four years ago,” she said, “and he was even scrabblier than he is now.”
“That’s scrabbly,” Cinder said, trying not to smile.
“I know. Me and Perry and Talon were coming back from the harbor when Talon spotted him. Flea was lying on his side, just off the trail. Right, Perry?”
He heard his name and surfaced to answer. “That’s right.”
“So we got closer and saw a nail speared through his paw. You know the soft webby part between his toes?” Willow splayed her fingers, pointing. “That’s where the nail was. I was scared he’d bite, but Perry went right up and said, ‘Easy, fleabag. I’m just going to take a look at your paw.’”
Perry smiled at Willow’s imitation of him. He didn’t think his voice was that deep. As she prattled on, he looked down at his own hand, flexing it. Remembering the feel of Aria’s fingers in his.
Did she hate him? Had she forgotten about him?
“What’s going on?” Reef asked quietly.
Perry shook his head. “Nothing.”
Reef watched him for a long moment. “Right,” he said, irritated, but as he rose to leave, his hand came down on Perry’s shoulder in a quick, reassuring grip.
Perry fought the urge to knock it away. Nothing was wrong. He was fine.
On his other side, Marron pretended not to notice. He had Vale’s old ledger open on the table to a diagram he’d made of the cave. When he turned the page, Perry saw a tally of food from a year ago, written in his brother’s hand. They’d thought they had so little in those days. They had less now. The stash of food Kirra had brought wouldn’t last forever, and Perry didn’t know how they’d replenish it.
Marron sensed him watching and looked up, a soft smile on his face. “Fine time to be Blood Lord, isn’t it?”
Perry swallowed. It wasn’t pity. It wasn’t. He nodded. “It’d be worse without you here.”
Marron’s smile grew warmer. “You’ve assembled a good team, Perry.” He went back to the ledger, creating three lines, studying them, and then sighing. He closed the book. “I’m of no use. Might as well try to rest.” He tucked it under his arm and left.
His departure inspired the others. One by one people made their way out, until it was only Reef and Kirra, leaving together. Perry watched them go, his heart pounding for no reason that he could understand. Then he was finally alone. He drew the candle closer and played with the flame, his eyes blurring as he tested his threshold for pain, until it guttered and went out.
When he finally stepped outside, the air smelled ashy and carried the sting of Aether. It smelled of ruin. The sky churned dark and bright. Marbled and shifting. In hours, the storm would break, and the tribe would come flooding into the cookhouse for shelter.
Flea trotted over from across the clearing, his ears bouncing up and down. Perry knelt and scratched his neck. “Hey, fleabag. You watching over things for me?”