Into the Still Blue (Under the Never Sky, #3)(58)

She knew nothing she could say would help.

Her ears still hadn’t recovered fully from the explosion, but she picked up snatches of conversation from the cockpit. An Aether storm had settled between the Komodo and the coast, blocking their way to the cave. The pilot—a Dweller who’d been in the craft with Cinder—described the path as impossible and unnavigable and suicide.

Her stomach clenched as she listened to Roar and Perry discuss alternate routes, hoping they’d settle on one worth trying. Finally free of the Komodo, she wanted desperately to get home—even if home meant a dismal cave.

She didn’t hear Cinder, but he was in the cockpit too. They’d all given Soren space—as much as was possible in the cramped Dragonwing.

Soren sat back, wiping his eyes. “He was terrible. He did awful things. You know what he’s really like. Was really like. Why do I even care?”

Crying had left his face red and swollen. He looked broken, his heart exposed. Nothing like the cocky boy she knew. “Because he was your father, Soren.”

“I’m the one who pushed him away. I stayed in Reverie when he wanted me to leave. He never gave up on me. I’m the one who gave up on him.”

“You didn’t give up on him. He knew that.”

“How can you be sure? How do you know?” Soren didn’t wait for her reply. He pressed his fists to his face and began to rock again.

Aria glanced up. Roar and Perry stood in the narrow threshold. Shoulders together. Minds together. Both looking so aware of what Soren was feeling.

Behind them, through the windshield, she saw the sky— Aether blue and now Aether red—and she wondered how she could feel lucky with Soren breaking apart before her eyes and after what she’d just seen. But she did.

Perry and Roar. Cinder and Soren.

They had all made it out alive.

*

By the time they found a clear route to the coast, Soren had exhausted himself and fallen asleep. Aria sat back against the cool metal wall of the Dragonwing. Her left arm ached from when she’d hit Kirra, but she noticed less pain in her right. She tested the movement in her hand and found she could almost close her fingers into a fist now. Stretching out her tired legs, she was struck by a pang of longing for her mother, who could have told her whether the wound was healing properly.

It felt familiar missing Lumina’s calm advice and assurances. But the immediate turn Aria’s thoughts took to Loran was new.

It hit her then: she’d never see him again.

She’d barely spent minutes with him, knew precious little about who he was. It made no sense that she felt so crushed. But like she’d told Soren about Hess, he was her father. That alone meant something. Regardless of all the years he’d been gone, or what might have happened between him and Lumina, she did feel something for him.

I want a chance to know you, Aria, Loran had said.

How could those words seem so lacking and so promising? What more could she have hoped for him to say?

Perry glanced back from the cockpit, interrupting her thoughts. When he saw that Soren had settled, he ducked beneath the low door and came over.

He knelt beside her, his eyes shining in the dimness. “How are you doing?”

“Me? I’m doing amazing.”

“Really,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Come here.” He took her hand and lifted her up. In a heartbeat, she found herself in a dim corner made darker by Perry, who towered over her and around her, blocking out the meager light.

Bending, he rested his forehead against hers and smiled. “I had some things I wanted to talk to you about. I think they were important, but I can’t remember now.”

“Because I said I’m amazing?”

His smile widened. “Because you are amazing.” He took her injured hand, running his thumb over her knuckles. “How is this?”

She couldn’t believe he wanted to know if she was in pain. “Not bad . . . I’m becoming left-handed.” The pain was either fading day by day, or she was becoming better at coping with it. Either way, she decided to consider it an improvement. “You?”

“A little sore,” he said absently, like he’d forgotten the bruises that covered him. “That move you did on Kirra was champ. It would never work on me, though.”

“I could pin you in two seconds flat.”

“I don’t know about that.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “We’ll have to see.” He cradled her face with callused hands, and bridged the distance between them.

His lips were gentle and soft as he kissed her, unlike the flexed muscles in his forearms. He felt solid and real and safe—everything she needed. She took the hem of his shirt and pulled him closer.

His kiss deepened as he leaned into her. His hands slid down her waist and settled on her hips, sending a warm wave of desire flooding through her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, wanting more, but he broke their kiss and made a low hissing sound by her ear. “You know I’m at a steep disadvantage here, right? When you want me, I feel it. It’s impossible to keep my hands off you.”

“Sounds like an advantage to both of us.”

He drew back, giving her a lopsided grin. “It would be if we were alone.” His gaze strayed toward the cockpit, a familiar, steady focus returning to his eyes. “We’re almost there.”