Into the Still Blue (Under the Never Sky, #3)(13)

Talon nodded, the gesture a little dismissive.

“Do you know what happened between me and your father?” The words came out before Perry could stop them. They hadn’t spoken about Vale yet. About how Vale had sold Talon, his own son, to the Dwellers for food. Brooke’s sister, Clara, too. Unforgivable. But then Perry had killed Vale—also unforgivable. He knew that act would haunt him forever.

Talon lifted his small shoulders. “I was sick. He sent me to the Dwellers to get better. When I was, you came to get me back.”

Perry studied his nephew. Talon knew more than he was letting on. Maybe he was saying what Perry wanted to hear, or maybe he wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. Either way, Perry wasn’t going to push. It wouldn’t get him anywhere. Talon didn’t just look like Vale. He was as hardheaded and tight-lipped too.

Perry lay back down, resting his head on his arm, and flashed on his argument with Aria. Maybe he did have something in common with his nephew after all.

“You think there are places to fish in the Still Blue?” Talon asked.

“Sure. I bet there’s lots of places to fish.”

“Good, because Willow and I found some night crawlers today. Huge ones. Eleven of them. Huge ones. I have them in a jar.”

Perry tried his best to focus as Talon prattled on about bait, but his eyes grew heavy. He’d just closed them when he heard the shift of canvas.

Aria stepped into the tent and froze, squinting to see them in the darkness.

“We’re here,” Perry said. It was the only thing that came to mind. He hadn’t expected her, but a wave of relief swept through him at the sight of her.

“Hi, Aria,” Talon said, all chirky and bright.

“Hi, Talon.” She bit her lip, glancing at the tent flap behind her. “I just came to . . . I was going to . . . I guess I’ll see you later?” Her voice rose at the end, like a question.

Perry didn’t know what to do. Talon lay curled at his side—Aria’s spot for the past few nights. He couldn’t send his nephew away, but he didn’t want her to leave, either.

“You don’t have to go,” Talon said. He hopped over Perry, to his right side. “There’s room.”

“Great,” Aria said, and slid in on Perry’s other side.

For a long second, he couldn’t believe she was right next to him. Then he became intensely aware of everything about her. The weight of her arm resting on his chest. The chill her clothes held from the cave. The violet scent he loved.

“You’re quiet,” she said.

Talon giggled. “Because he likes you. Don’t you, Uncle Squawk?”

“I do.” Perry peered down and found Aria looking at him. She smiled, but concern shadowed her eyes. “Did you know that?”

“Even though I vanished?” she asked, using his word from earlier.

“Yes. Of course . . . I’ll always . . . like you, Aria.” He grinned, because he sounded like a fool. He loved her— down to his soul—and he was going to tell her sometime. But not with Talon’s knee digging into his kidney.

Aria smiled. “I’ll always like you too.”

The way she said it, the way her temper opened up, he knew she’d read his mind and felt the same way. Her lips were close. He pressed a kiss to them, though he wanted more, everything she’d give him.

That sent Talon over the edge. He lost it, his torrential giggles infectious, pulling them all in.

A full hour passed before the tent fell quiet again. Perry was covered in legs and arms and blankets, so hot that sweat dampened his shirt. The shoulder he’d dislocated a month ago ached beneath the weight of Aria’s head, and Talon was snoring right into his ear, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so good.

Being with the two of them reminded him of the first time he ever shot a bow. Like he had discovered something that was new, but that already fit him perfectly.

He stayed awake as long as he could, savoring it. Then he closed his eyes and surrendered to sleep.



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UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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7


ARIA


Hovers.

They weren’t her favorite things in the world.

Aria stared up at the Belswan, taking in its liquid shape. Eighty feet from nose to tail, the cargo craft still managed to look sleek. The exterior was smooth and opalescent, like blue pearl, the coloration lightening gradually toward the front, like the tip of the craft had faded in the sun, exposing the transparent glass beneath. The tip, of course, was the cockpit.

“Perfection,” Caleb said reverently. He was still weak, but he’d insisted on coming outside to see her off. They stood on the bluff above the cave, as Aria waited to leave on the mission. “Flawless design and craftsmanship. It’s like Gaudí created a modern ship.”

Aria shook her head. “It is beautiful.” But that didn’t mean she liked it. Only a week ago, she’d stood in the cockpit of this very craft watching Reverie collapse before her eyes. Months earlier, she had been thrown from a Hover onto the hard desert outside Reverie and left to die.

This time would be better. How could it not be?

“Where is everyone?” she asked, scanning the small crowd around her.