Through the Ever Night (Under the Never Sky #2)(35)

“Terrible supper,” Reef said at last.

Perry let out a breath, the tension seeping out of his fingers. “Could’ve been better.”

Reef looked up to the sky. “You feel it?”

Perry nodded. The sting in the back of his nose warned him that another storm wouldn’t be far off. “Almost always now.”

The Aether flowed, corded and angry, giving the night a blue, marbled glow. After the storm, the calm skies had only held for a day. Now there was little difference between day and night anymore. Days were darkened by clouds and the blue cast of Aether. Nights were brightened by the same. They flowed together, the edges blurring into an endless day. An ever night.

He looked at Reef. “I need you to send a message.”

Reef raised his eyebrows. “To?”

“Marron.” Perry didn’t want to ask for help from him again—he’d done it only months ago when he’d sought refuge there with Roar and Aria—but the Tides’ position was too weak. He needed food and he needed people. He’d ask for a favor before he saw his tribe starve or lose the compound in a raid.

Reef agreed. “It’s a good idea. I’ll send Gren first thing tomorrow.”

Even after he and Reef showed up to relieve them, Twig and Gren remained at the watch post, huddled at the edge of a rocky overlook. The four of them sat together in comfortable silence as a fine mist began to fall.

Hyde and Hayden arrived soon after, Straggler trailing behind them. They had the night off watch, all three. Perry had seen Hyde yawn half a dozen times during supper. They settled themselves along the lookout, watching as the mist thickened to rain. Still no one spoke, or left.

“Quiet night,” Twig said finally. “We’re quiet, I mean. Not the rain.” His voice sounded raspy and hoarse after the long stretch of silence.

“You eat a frog, Twig?” Hayden asked.

“Maybe there were frogs in the soup tonight,” said Gren.

Hyde grunted. “Frogs taste better than that tripe.”

Twig cleared his throat. “You know I almost did eat a live frog once,” he said.

“Twig, you look like a frog. You have froggy eyes.”

“Show us how high you can jump, Twig.”

“Shut up and let him croak the story.”

The story itself wasn’t much. As a boy, Twig had been on the brink of kissing a frog, on a dare from his brother, when it slipped through his fingers and jumped into his mouth. It was the wrong story for Twig to tell. At twenty-three, he had yet to kiss a girl, and the Six knew it, as they knew nearly everything about one another. A massacre followed, as they took shots at Twig, saying things like maybe he was worried that after the frog, a girl would be a letdown, and that they supported his quest to find a prince.

Perry listened, smiling at the better jabs, feeling more himself than he had in the past two days. Eventually it grew quiet again, except for the rhythm of a few snores. He looked around him. The rain had stopped. Some slept. Others breathed steadily, focused on the night. No one spoke, but Perry heard them clearly. He understood why they’d been shadowing him and why they sat with him now, staying when they didn’t have to.

Given any choice, they wouldn’t leave. They’d stand by him.





18



ARIA


We made better pace today.” Aria wrung her hair out, scooting closer to the fire. Spring had come in force, with days of steady rain. They’d left the Tides three days ago, and her strength had finally returned. “Don’t you think we made up some ground?”

Roar lay against his satchel, his legs crossed at the ankle, his foot tapping to a beat she couldn’t hear. “We did.”

“Good fire, too. We got lucky to find dry wood.”

Roar looked over, raising an eyebrow. She realized she’d been staring not at him, but through him.

“You know what’s worse than mute Aria? Small-talking Aria.”

She picked up a stick and jabbed at the fire. “I’m just sparing you.”

They had traveled in near silence most of the day, despite Roar’s attempts at conversation. He wanted to discuss their plan for when they reached the Horns. How would they discover information about the Still Blue? How would they negotiate for Liv’s return? But Aria hadn’t wanted to discuss anything. She’d needed to stay focused on moving forward. On pushing harder when she felt the urge to turn back. And speaking might get her speaking.

She worried about Talon. She missed Perry. There was nothing she could do about either except race to the Horns. Now, feeling a little guilty over her silence, she was trying—lamely, it was true—to make up for it.

Roar frowned. “You’re sparing me?”

“Yes, sparing you. All I’ve got right now is anxious nonsense. I’m exhausted, but I can barely sit still. And I feel like we should keep going.”

“We can travel through the night,” he said.

“No. We need to rest. See? I’m not making any sense.”

Roar watched her for a moment. Then he looked up at the tree branches above them, his expression growing thoughtful. “Have I ever told you about the first time Perry tried Luster?”

“No,” she said. She’d heard stories about Perry, Roar, and Liv all winter, but she’d never heard this one.