Into the Still Blue (Under the Never Sky, #3)(45)

She shook her head, confused. This wasn’t sinking in the right way. He was her father. She should feel something besides curiosity, shouldn’t she? Something more than missing her mother?

“How long have you known about me?” she heard herself ask.

“Nineteen years.”

“You knew when she was pregnant with me?”

“Yes.” He shifted his weight. “Aria, I don’t know how to do this. I’m not sure if I can think of myself as a father. I don’t even like children.”

“Did I ask you to be my father? Do I look like a child?”

“You look like her.”

That stole the breath from her lungs.

The sound of the storm rose up, filling their silence, and she thought about how much time she’d spent wondering about this man. Wanting to find him. He’d known about her the entire time and he’d done nothing about it.

Aria grabbed the railing behind her, fingers closing around the cool metal. She was spinning. Churning like the sky above.

“You were in Reverie. I know that’s how you met my mother.” Lumina had said that much. “Why did you leave her?”

His attention moved to the funnels flashing in the distance. His eyes narrowed, his black hair tossed by the wind.

Black hair like hers.

“This was a mistake,” he said.

“I was a mistake?”

“No,” he snapped. “Telling you was.” He glanced at the door. “I need to get you back.”

“Good. I want to go back.”

Loran winced, which made no sense. How could he be disappointed? He’d just said he regretted telling her.

“You’re confusing me,” she said.

“That’s not what I wanted. I wanted to explain what happened.”

“How can you ever explain?” Instantly she regretted her outburst. This was an opportunity. She should be trying to convince him to help them escape. To give her information.

She did nothing. Only stood there, breathing in and out. Nauseous and numb and shaking.

Loran turned to the door, his hand hovering over the access panel. “I have one question to ask,” he said, speaking with his back to her. “How is she?”

“Dead. My mother is dead.”

For a long moment, Loran didn’t move. Aria stared at his profile over his shoulder. She took in the way he stood there, shoulders shifting with ragged breaths, and was terrified by how much the news seemed to affect him.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last.

“You’ve been gone for nineteen years. Sorry isn’t enough.”

He pulled the door open and led her back into the Komodo, where there was no wind, and no sound, and no flash of Aether.

She moved without feeling. Without thought, until raised voices up ahead pulled her out of the fog.

Standing by the door to her chamber, two Guardians were engaged in an argument with someone inside.

“Detainees are under Hess’s jurisdiction, not Sable’s,” said one of the Guardians. “Their transport and relocation can only occur at his orders. She should be here.”

Aria couldn’t see beyond the Guardians’ backs, but she recognized Soren’s voice when he answered.

“Look, you can talk to me about protocols all day long. I’m just telling you what happened. She left half an hour ago with one of the Horns.”

She glanced at Loran. Her father. And was suddenly afraid for him. Sable had proved that no matter who crossed him, he punished ruthlessly. But Loran was stoic, all the emotion she’d just seen on his face moments ago gone.

“Where are you planning to take her?” he asked as they walked up.

As the Guardians whirled, Aria caught a glimpse of Roar and Soren watching worriedly from within the room.

Loran’s question surprised the Guardians, putting them on the defensive. They answered immediately, and in unison. “To the infirmary.”

“I’ll take her,” Loran said smoothly.

“No,” said the shorter Guardian. “We have orders.”

“It’s no trouble. I was heading there myself.”

“We were given explicit orders from our commander to transport her ourselves.”

Loran tipped his head down the corridor behind him. “Then you’d better carry them out.”

She was handed off, from Loran to the Guardians. In one swift stroke, he had avoided questions and diverted any suspicion away from himself. Clever, she had to admit. She looked back as she was led away for the second time that night.

Loran was still there, watching her.


[page]Hess was waiting alone in the infirmary.

“Come in, Aria. Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to one of the cots.

The narrow room smelled antiseptic and familiar, its rows of cots and metal counters jogging Aria’s memory. She pictured Lumina in a doctor’s smock, her hair pulled back in a sleek bun, her demeanor simultaneously calm and alert. Lumina had made any garment elegant, and every action— sitting, standing, sneezing—graceful.

Aria didn’t see herself that way. That poised. She was messier. More impatient. More volatile. She had an artistic side, which Lumina hadn’t possessed.

Was it Loran? Did these sides of her come from him? A soldier?

Aria blinked hard, willing herself not to think about this now.