Into the Still Blue (Under the Never Sky, #3)(63)

Roar’s laugh was wicked and high-pitched, resembling the cackle of a wild turkey. It was one of the funniest sounds Perry had ever heard; he was powerless against it. Soon they were both howling, standing in the middle of a place that was, and wasn’t, home.

By the time they settled down and took the trail back to the cave, Perry’s ribs ached.

“Why were we laughing?”

Roar gestured to the south, where Aether funnels scored down to the earth. “Because of that. Because the world is ending.”

“That shouldn’t be funny.”

Apparently it was, because it got them started again.

Perry had no idea if he’d expressed half of what he’d intended. He knew he’d been selfish, leaving Roar to deal with Liv’s death alone. He hadn’t let himself accept that she was gone, so he’d failed his friend, and himself, but he meant to change that. He was terrible at falling—Roar was right about that—but nothing ever kept him down.

As they walked back to the cave, a piece of him that had been broken felt whole again. Nothing looked the same or smelled the same, and maybe the world was ending, but he and Roar would walk to that end side by side.


When they arrived, they found the main cavern empty, everyone already gone to sleep. Perry left Roar and headed for his tent, half-asleep himself.

Reef and Marron intercepted him on the way.

“A few words?” Reef said.

“Sure,” Perry said. “A few.” He was so tired; every time he blinked he felt like he dreamed.

“Did you and Roar talk?” Marron asked.

Perry nodded. “Just did.”

Marron smiled. “Good.”

“He’s selfish and arrogant,” said Reef.

“But he’s good for Perry, Reef,” Marron said.

Reef grunted—as enthusiastic as he’d ever sounded about Roar.

Marron reached into a satchel. “I forgot to give this back to you earlier.” He removed the Blood Lord chain, handing it over.

“Thank you,” Perry said, pulling it on. The weight of the metal around his neck was more familiar than comfortable. He wondered if it would ever be both.

Marron and Reef exchanged a look, and then Reef drew a noisy breath, pushing back his braids. “You brought us both into the Tides, Perry. Neither one of us would be here if you hadn’t let us into your tribe.”

“That’s right,” Marron said. “You offered us shelter when we needed it most. When you couldn’t afford to, you helped us.”

Perry had never felt like he’d done either of them a favor. It had always felt the other way around.

“Between my group from Delphi and Reef’s Six, we’re fifty-three people,” said Marron. “Fifty-three who’ll willingly stay behind. We won’t take the place of your tribe on those Hovers.”

Reef nodded. “There’s no way forward that isn’t through pain and hardship, Peregrine. You must see that. It’s your task as Blood Lord to do what’s best for the whole—for as many of your tribe as you can help—not what’s easiest.”

“We’d like you to just consider what we’re saying,” Marron said. “That’s all we ask.”

Perry pretended to think for a few seconds. “It’s a noble offer. . . . Did either of you think I’d accept it?”

Reef and Marron exchanged a look, the answer plain on their faces.

Perry grinned. “Well, you were right.” Clapping them on the shoulders, he bid them good night.


In his tent, Perry found Cinder asleep next to Talon. Flea was rolled into a ball under Cinder’s arm.

Perry knelt and scratched his coarse fur. The dog angled his head up, his tail padding against the blankets. He loved to be scratched in the soft slope between his wide-set eyes.

Perry’s gaze moved to Talon and Cinder. The boys had fallen in together like they’d known each other since birth. He owed that to Willow.

“And you too, fleabag,” he said.

Cinder’s eyes blinked open. Perry smiled, too happy to see him there to feel sorry for waking him. “How’d you get him away from Willow?” he asked, nodding to Flea.

Lying on his side, Cinder gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I didn’t do anything. He just came back with me.”

“Willow was fine with that?”

The corner of Cinder’s mouth pulled up. “Sorta. She told Flea he could stay with me this one time only, since I just got back.”

“Generous of her, actually.”

“Yeah,” Cinder said. “I know.” His smile widened. “She’s still cursing. You thought she’d stop when I got here, but she hasn’t.”

“We already knew that Willow is unstoppable.”

“I know,” Cinder said again. “She is.”

As the moment settled between them, Perry looked from Cinder to Talon, and his vision began to blur. These boys—only one of them his blood relative, but both of them family—replenished him. They gave him confidence and purpose. Wearing the chain made sense when he looked at them, when he thought of them with Willow and Clara, whooping as they leaped from a platform into the darkness. They were the future, and they were so good.

Perry pushed a bit of small talk past his lips, buying a moment to compose himself. “So, how are you doing?”