Into the Still Blue (Under the Never Sky, #3)(47)

Hess stared at his hands. She knew he was imagining how he could cut Sable out. She needed to convince him, but she had to be careful. Her fear of Sable dug deep into her bones, but Hess couldn’t be underestimated.

Hess lifted his head. “I want my son to come with me. I want you to help convince him that he should.”

Aria shook her head. “You need to help me this time. Not the other way around. This is your chance to choose right.”

“I have.” Hess stood and moved to the door, stopping there. “I’m not under any delusions. I know the kind of man Sable is. But I also know he won’t cross me. He needs me or he goes nowhere.”

“He needs you like he needs a meal.”

Wrong thing to say; she’d pushed too far.

Hess stiffened, sucking in a breath. Then he turned his back on her and left.


[page]Later, with Soren snoring in the opposite cot, Aria told Roar everything. She started with what had been done to Perry.

Roar sat up and pushed his knuckles into his eyes. Long minutes passed and he didn’t say a word.

Watching him, Aria remembered the days after Liv had died.

She had considered not telling Roar. Did he really need to hear that the same man who’d killed Liv had tortured his best friend? But she’d needed to talk to him. She’d needed to release some of her anger or her mind would explode. And they were good at this, she and Roar. They had practice handing their worries back and forth.

She broke the silence herself, telling Roar about Loran, and that brought him back to her. He moved to her side and took her hand. He was careful. Gentle as he curled his fingers into hers.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

She knew he wasn’t asking about her injured hand. “Like I finally got what I’ve always wanted, but it’s not what I actually wanted.”

Roar nodded, like she’d made sense, and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Perry and I,” he said after a while, “neither one of us had the best luck with parents.”

Aria peered at him. She found him looking at her from the corner of his eye too.

She knew little about Roar’s past, considering how close they were. When he was eight, he’d come to the Tides with his grandmother, hungry and homeless, the soles in his shoes worn through. From the way Roar had always spoken, that was the moment his life began. He had never mentioned anything prior to that day—until now.

“My mother wasn’t the most monogamous of women. I don’t remember very much about her, other than that. Which makes us very different, considering Liv is the only girl I’ve ever been with, and she was going to be . . . I wanted her to be . . .” He sucked on his bottom lip, lost in his thoughts for a moment. “I never wanted anyone else.”

“I know.”

He smiled. “I know you know. . . . I meant to tell you about my father, not about Liv. Here’s what I know about him.” Roar released her hand and counted on slender fingers. “He was handsome.”

“I could have guessed.”

“Thank you—and a drunk.”

“I could have guessed that too.”

“Right. Well then, what am I going to say next?”

Aria sucked on her bottom lip. “That I have the opportunity to know more than two things about my father?”

He nodded. “It seems possible. He sought you out, Aria. He didn’t need to help you. Or tell you who he is.”

All true. “What if I hate what I learn about him? He’s Sable’s right-hand man. How can I respect him?”

“I was sworn to Vale for ten years and I hated him.” Roar glanced at the door, and then lowered his voice. “Aria, your father . . . he could help us get out of here.”

“Maybe,” she said. But she didn’t see how. They were on opposite sides.

She let out a slow breath and rested her head on his shoulder. She’d always imagined that finding her father would be such a happy occasion. She didn’t know what she felt now, but it leaned closer to terror.

As the minutes passed with Soren snoring in the other bunk, her mind wandered back to Perry. She pictured him walking through the woods, his bow over his shoulder. She imagined him dressed in a Guardian uniform, flashing a smile at her that carried a touch of wry embarrassment. She saw him lying on a cot, so beaten he could barely move.

“I can’t stop thinking about him,” she said, when she couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Neither can I,” Roar said, knowing intuitively that him was Perry. “Maybe a song will help.”

“I’m too tired to sing.”

Too sad. Too worried. Too anxious.

“Then I will.” Roar was quiet for a moment, thinking of a song, and then he began the Hunter’s Song.

Perry’s favorite.





[page]UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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26


PEREGRINE


Perry woke to the prick of a needle in his arm.

A Dweller in a white smock answered his question before he voiced it.

“Medication for the pain,” she said. “They want you mobile and well enough to speak.”

Without the fear of aches lancing through his ribs every time he breathed, a feeling of intense relief swept over him. Before the doctor had left the room, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, until he heard the door slide open.