Into the Still Blue

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.

With only his face in sight, she could almost imagine he wasn’t hurt. That they weren’t imprisoned here. She could almost put herself back to when they’d traveled to Bliss in search of her mother.

They’d spent their nights this way, close, trading hours of sleep in favor of talking and kissing. Sacrificing the rest they needed for just another minute together.

Her eyes began to blur. She didn’t know how to handle this.

Perry spoke first. “I don’t want you to see me this way. . . . Can you pull the sheet up?”

She reached for it. Her hand settled on his ribs instead. He tensed beneath her fingers, but it couldn’t have been from pain; she was barely touching him.

“I can’t,” she said.

“You can. I know that’s your healthy hand.”

“I don’t want to.”

“This is hurting you. I know it is.”

He was right, she was in agony, but she wouldn’t let him endure this by himself.

“I can’t because I don’t want you to hide from me.”

He pressed his lips together, the muscles in his jaw flexing.

Shame. That’s what she saw in the shadows in his eyes. In the tears that pooled there.

He closed them. “You’re so stubborn.”

“I know.”

He fell quiet. Too quiet, she realized, as the seconds passed. He was holding his breath.

“It wasn’t a fair fight,” he said. “Otherwise I would have won.”

“I know,” she said.

“You know a lot.”

He was struggling to make light of this. But how could he? She moved her hand over the ridges of his ribs. Beautiful skin, marred by bruises.

“I don’t know enough. I don’t know how to make this better.” Anger swelled inside her, the pressure increasing in her chest. In her heart. It mounted with every bruise she drifted over. “Only a monster could do this.”

Perry’s eyes fluttered open. “Don’t think about him.”

“How can I not? How can you not?”

“You’re here. I only want to think about you right now.”

Aria bit back the words she wanted to speak. Tell me you’re furious. She wanted to hear him rage. She wanted to see a hint of the fire that always seemed to burn inside him. After this—after what he’d been through—would he ever be the same?

“I keep thinking about us,” he said. “How we were at Marron’s and afterward, when it was just the two of us. It was so good being with you.” He licked his lips. “When we get out of this, let’s go somewhere again. Me and you.”

The tension in her chest loosened, relief washing over her. He’d said when. Even in his beaten condition, he believed in whens and not ifs. She never should have doubted his strength.

“Where do you want to go?” she asked.

His smile was faint and lopsided. “Doesn’t matter . . . I just want to spend time alone with you.”

Aria wanted exactly the same thing. And she ached to see him smile—really smile—so she said, “And this isn’t good enough for you?”

24

PEREGRINE

You’re cruel to make me laugh right now,” Perry said, trying to keep as still as possible. Any sharp movement and his ribs felt like they’d crack.

“Sorry,” Aria said. She was smiling, her lower lip trapped between her teeth.

“Yeah . . . you look sorry.”

He couldn’t believe she was here. She had no idea what her scent alone was doing to bring him back. He’d retreated deep into his mind since Sable left. Perry wasn’t sure if it was his own doing, or if he’d been slipping into unconsciousness, but it didn’t matter. Being alert only meant pain—until she’d appeared.

“You know I’ll go anywhere with you, Perry.” Aria said. Her attention dropped to his mouth, her scent growing warmer, sweeter.

He knew what she wanted, but he hesitated. Lying there stock-still was almost more than he could handle, and he knew he looked pitiful, black and blue and swollen.

“I want to kiss you,” he said. Forget pride. He wanted her too much. “Can I?”

She nodded. “You don’t ever have to ask me that again. I’ll always say yes.”

Her weight settled lightly onto his ribs as they leaned toward each other. He expected her mouth to match the gentleness of her hands, but her tongue thrust cool and sweet between his lips, demanding as it moved over his.

His heart gave a kick in his chest, his pulse suddenly pounding. He moved without thinking, taking her face in his hands.

Pain blazed through his limbs, and he must have made some kind of sound, because Aria tensed and jerked back.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “Should we stop?”

“No,” he said hoarsely. “We should not.”

Their lips found each other again, every rational thought vanishing from his mind. He couldn’t see or feel anything beyond her. He was focused completely, wholly, on more.

More of her body. Her mouth. Her taste.

Aria held back, careful not to lean against him, when all he wanted was to feel her against him. He ran his hand down her thigh and pulled her leg over his hip, drawing her closer. Aches flared across his legs and arms, but his desire went much deeper. She was all lean muscles and soft curves beneath his hands, skin as soft as her hair. The snug Guardian flight suit covered her from wrist to neck—a brutally unfair barrier. He slipped his hand beneath her shirt, nearly undone by the way she arched into him.