Into the Still Blue (Under the Never Sky, #3)(70)

Exodus.

The word fixed in her mind, grave-sounding. Unbelievable, despite how many months she’d anticipated this moment.

They were leaving.

The crowd thinned once again as people rushed off to gather their belongings.

Aria didn’t move. Roar and Soren had stayed behind with her. They were both watching her like they expected her to say something, so she did.

“Why is he still in there, Roar?”

“Because he knows what this means, and he doesn’t want to do it.”

“Which he?” she asked. “Cinder or Perry?”

“My guess?” Roar said. “Both.”


Within minutes, the cave bustled with activity as the Tides began packing and organizing their supplies for the journey. Food and blankets. Medicines and weapons. Everything was culled down to the most essential items and loaded in storage crates.

Sable sent two dozen of his own soldiers to assist them. Unsurprisingly, they were led by her father.

Loran barely glanced at Aria as he entered the cave. She, on the other hand, couldn’t stop watching him.

She was relieved to see him. Thrilled and terrified. For nineteen years they hadn’t seen each other, but now fate had brought them together several times.

Right away he and the Horns set a tone of dominance. Their assistance took the shape of tersely issued commands and berating comments. The Tides quickly grew tight-lipped and anxious. Only a few pushed back, refusing to be ordered. Reef and the Six held their ground, as did Bear and Molly. When Twig got into a shoving match with one of the Horns that nearly turned bloody, Aria had seen enough.

She pulled Loran aside. Her heart was racing. “Your men are too harsh. You don’t have to treat them this way.”

Loran crossed his arms, covering the horn emblem on his chest. He was shorter than Perry, narrower in the shoulders. Fit for a man his age.

Aria scowled at him. “What, now you’ve got nothing to say?”

His dark eyebrows lifted. “Actually, I’m interested in hearing your idea of how I should treat people.”

She reeled back, stung, though he hadn’t spoken harshly. If anything, he’d sounded amused.

Loran looked away from her, surveying the activity around the cave.

Aria waited for him to leave. She should leave after a comment like that, but she couldn’t. Something kept her feet planted.

Her gaze fell to the horns on his uniform. She wanted him to be someone different. Someone who would see the scene around her the same way. Someone who never would have left her, or her mother.

Loran’s gray eyes came back to hers, his expression both frustrated and hopeful. It occurred to her that she might be looking at him the same way.

“The Hovers don’t have endless supplies of fuel. The Horns are out there—exposed—and the storm in the south is not south anymore. It is bearing down on us. East and north are no better. West is all that’s left. The only way we can go is toward water, but that won’t be an option for much longer.

“My men and I aren’t interested in almost surviving, Aria. Perhaps that desire looks like harshness to you, but I would rather be alive and cruel than dead and kind.”

“Did you mean what you said about wanting a chance to know me?”

The question passed through her lips before she knew it. Loran blinked at her, as surprised as she was.

“Yes,” he said.

“Even if you learn that there’s a part of me that hates you?”

He nodded, a smile lighting in his eyes. “I think I’ve glimpsed that part already.”

He was teasing her, letting warmth come through. If she wanted to know him, she’d have to return it. She couldn’t, and she didn’t know why, because she wanted to.

As the seconds passed, the lines around Loran’s eyes deepened with disappointment.

One of his men called to him, drawing his attention away. Loran turned to leave, but then he paused, looking back at her. “You’re assigned to Sable’s Hover—his orders. Nothing I can change, but I tried to put all your friends on the same craft as well.”

Aria watched him walk away, waiting until he was out of hearing range before she let herself say, “Thank you.”


[page]Two hours later, she stepped out of the cave with her satchel over one shoulder and Perry’s over the other.

Talon had helped her sort through the trunks in Perry’s tent, though he had warned her repeatedly that his uncle Perry didn’t really care very much about those old things. She’d known that too. Perry cared about his bow and his knife. He cared about his land and about hunting, and most of all about people. But books? Shirts and socks? Not important to him.

She’d packed a few of her favorite items anyway, taking special care with the collection of falcon figures he’d carved with Talon. Perry’s belongings were more than what she had—which was nothing. If he didn’t want them, she’d claim them herself. His things already felt like they were hers, and his shirts were more than mere shirts. Maybe she was losing her mind, but they meant something to her just because they were his.

Now she carried her leather satchel and his, along with his bow and quiver, the weight of his belongings a poor substitute for him. For the arm she wished were resting across her shoulders instead.

Aria stopped just before leaving the cave. Most everyone was outside already, and only a few people were gathered at the stage. Perry wasn’t one of them.