She did it now.
She let the words fly across the roof and past the trees. She lost herself in the aria, letting it carry her off. But even as she sang, she knew the man below had stopped cutting wood and the dog had stopped barking. Even the trees hushed to hear her sing. When she was done, she had tears in her eyes. She wished her mother could’ve heard her. She’d never sounded better.
Perry closed his eyes when she was finished. “You have a voice as sweet as your scent,” he said, his words deep and quiet. “Sweet as violets.”
Her heart stopped in her chest. He thought she had a scent like violets? “Perry . . . do you want to know the words?”
His eyes flew open. “Yes.”
She took a moment to think through the lyrics, and then to muster up the courage to tell him—everything—without looking away.
“How the stars shone. How sweet the earth smelled. The orchard gate creaked, and a footstep pressed on the sand. And she entered, fragrant as a flower, and fell into my arms. Oh, sweet kisses, lingering caresses. Slowly, trembling, I gazed upon her beauty. Now my dream of true love is lost forever. My last hour has flown, and I die, hopeless, and never have I loved life more.”
They reached for each other then like some force had pulled their hands together. Aria looked at their fingers as they laced together, bringing her the sensation of his touch. Of warmth and calluses. Soft and hard together. She absorbed the terror and beauty of him and his world. Of every moment over the past days. All of it, filling her up like the first breath she’d ever taken. And never had she loved life more.
Chapter 27
ARIA
When she went back to the Navel with Perry, only forty-seven minutes remained on the time counter. Roar was at the control table with Marron. She had a vague notion of them speaking together quietly, and of Perry pacing behind the couch. She couldn’t focus on anything beyond the numbers on the screen.
Mom, she pleaded silently. Be there. Please be there. I need you.
Perry and I need you.
She expected fanfare when the counter reached zero. An alarm or some sort of noise. There was nothing. Not even a sound.
“I have the two files here,” Marron said. “Both stored locally on the Smarteye.”
Marron pulled them up on the wallscreen. One file had a date and a timer on it. The readout showed twenty-one minutes of recorded time. The other was labeled SONGBIRD.
Aria didn’t have any memory of Perry joining her on the couch or taking her hand. She didn’t know how she hadn’t noticed. Now that she did, he felt like the only thing keeping her from drifting off the couch.
They’d decided to check the files before trying to contact Lumina. Aria asked to see the recording first. This was the file they both needed. Barter for Talon. Evidence that would clear her name. Then she braced herself for fire and Soren. For the sounds of Paisley dying. She couldn’t believe she actually wanted it to be there.
A smoldering forest appeared on the wallscreen. Paisley’s panicked voice burst across the room. Images Aria had seen through her eyes played out on the screen. Her feet blurring beneath her. Flashes of Paisley’s hand linked with hers. Shuddering images of fire and smoke and trees. When it came to Soren grabbing Paisley’s leg, Perry spoke at her side. “You don’t have to watch all of it.”
She blinked at him, feeling like she’d stepped out of a trance. There were still six minutes left, but she knew how the recording ended. “That’s enough.”
The wallscreen went dark and silence came. They had the recording. It should have felt more like a victory, but Aria felt like crying. She could still hear the echo of Paisley’s voice.
“I need to see the other file,” she said.
Marron selected “Songbird.” Lumina’s face took up most of the wallscreen. Her shoulders reached from one end of the room to the other. Marron adjusted the image to half the size, but she remained larger than human.
“That’s my mother,” she heard herself say.
Lumina smiled at the camera. A quick, nervous smile. Her dark hair was fastened as she always wore it, pulled back from her face. Behind her there were rows of shelves with labeled boxes. She was in some sort of supply room.
“This is strange speaking to a camera and pretending it’s you. But I know it’s you, Aria. I know you’ll be watching this and listening.”
Her voice was loud, everywhere in the room. She reached up and smoothed the collar of her doctor’s smock.
“We’re in trouble here. Bliss has suffered serious damage in an Aether storm. The Consuls estimate forty percent of the Pod has been contaminated, but generators are failing and the number seems to be climbing every hour. The CGB has promised help. We’re waiting for them. We haven’t given up. Neither should you, Aria.
“I wanted to tell you when it happened, but the CGB shut down our link with other Pods. They don’t want panic spreading. But I found a way, I hope, to get this message to you. I know you must be worried.”
Aria’s heart had stopped beating. Lumina sat back. Her hands were offscreen but Aria knew they’d be folded in her lap.
“I need to tell you something else, Aria. Something you’ve wanted to know about for so long. My work.” She sent a fleeting smile toward the camera. “You must be happy to hear that.
“I have to begin with the Realms. The CGB created them to give us the illusion of space when we were forced into Pods during the Unity. They were only meant to be copies of the world we left behind, as you know, but the possibilities proved to be too enticing. So we gave ourselves the ability to fly. To travel from a snowcap to a beach with a single thought. And why feel pain if you don’t have to? Why feel the brunt of real fear if there’s no danger of becoming hurt? We increased what we deemed good and removed the bad. Those are the Realms as you know them. Better than Real, as they say.”