Through the Ever Night (18 page)

She wanted much more than that. Aria wanted hours, days to spend with Caleb. Time to tell him how sorry she was about Paisley and how much she missed spending every day with him. Caleb was there with other people now. Pixie sat beside him in silence, watching him sketch, her jet-black hair trimmed shorter than Aria remembered. Aria wondered how Soren felt seeing her. Less than a year ago, they’d been dating. Rune was there as well with the Tilted Green Bottles’ drummer, Jupiter. They were tangled in a passionate kiss, oblivious to anyone else.

Something about them—about all of them—seemed distant and desperate.

“Congratulations,” Soren said. “You’re officially nothing.”

She panned the empty space beside her. It was strange hearing his voice and not being able to see him. “Soren, this is eerie.”

“Try it for five months, then tell me how you feel.”

“Is this … is this really how you spend your time?”

“You think I like skulking around? My father
banned
me, Aria. You think you were the only one he sold out after that night?” He made a snorting sound, like he regretted his last words. “Anyway … whatever.” He sighed. “Check it out. Jupiter and Rune are, like, mega into each other. Saw that coming. Jup’s a good man. Decent pilot, too. We used to have fun racing D-Wings before … you know. Before. And Pixie, she and I were … I don’t know. I don’t know what we were. But
Caleb
, Aria. What do you
see
in him?”

She saw a thousand things. A thousand memories. Caleb used words like
audacious
and
lethargic
to describe colors. He loved sushi because it was beautiful. When he laughed, he covered his mouth. When he yawned, he didn’t. He was the first boy she’d ever kissed, and it’d been a disaster—nothing like the breathless thrill of kissing Perry. They’d been on a Ferris wheel in a carnival Realm. Caleb’s eyes had been open, which she hadn’t liked. She’d kissed his bottom lip, which he’d found odd. But the main problem, they’d decided, was that the kiss had lacked meaning. Or
gravitas
, as Caleb had called it.

Now when she looked at him, all she saw was meaning. All she felt was sadness. For him. For how they’d been. Things would never be the same.

Aria’s attention moved to his drawing, curious to see what absorbed him. The sketch was a side view of a skeletal figure in a tight crouch, knees and arms bent, head down. It reached to the very edge of the page, so the figure looked trapped in a box. The drawing was somber, menacing, and nothing like his usual loose sketches.

Suddenly, silence closed over the Realm. Aria looked up. The trees were still. No sounds drifted up from the river. The Realm was as motionless as the painting it’d been modeled after, except for the anxious, subtle shifting of the people. Caleb’s gaze lifted from his sketchbook. Pixie squinted at the sky and then at the river like she couldn’t believe her eyes. Rune and Jupiter drew apart and looked at each other with confusion.

“Soren—” Aria began.

“It usually comes right back.”

He was right. A second later, the sound of birdsong returned, and a breeze stirred the leaves above her. Out on the lake, sailboats resumed their progress over the water.

The Realm had unlocked, but it hadn’t returned to normal. Caleb snapped his sketchbook shut, sticking his pencil over his ear. A man nearby cleared his throat and adjusted his tie, resuming his walk along the path. Slowly, conversations around them picked up again, but they seemed forced, a little too enthusiastic.

Aria had never dreamed until she’d been cast out of Reverie. Now she saw how similar the Realms were. A good dream was something you clung to until the last moment before waking. Caleb was clinging. They all were. Everything about this place was good, and they didn’t want to see any hint of it ending.

“Soren, can we get out of here? I don’t want to watch this any—”

They fractioned back to the opera hall before she’d finished speaking. Aria looked down, relieved to see herself.

Soren stood with her onstage. He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “What do you think of your old life? Different, right?”

“That’s putting it lightly. The glitch just now—how often is that happening?”

“A few times a day. I looked into it. Power surges. One of the domes that houses a generator was compromised this winter, so things are … glitchy.”

A wave of numbness rolled through her. It was the same thing that had happened to Bliss, the Pod where her mother had died. “Can’t they fix it?”

“They’re trying. It’s what they’ve always done. But with Aether storms getting worse, they can’t patch the damage fast enough.”

“That’s why your father is pressuring me for the Still Blue.”

“He’s desperate—and he should be. We have to get out of here. It’s just a matter of time.” He smiled darkly. “That’s where you come in. You wanted to see them, and I told you what’s happening in Reverie. Now you have to help me when I come out there.”

She studied him. “You’re really ready to leave everything?”

“What
everything
, Aria?” He glared at the audience seats. “You want to know what I’m leaving? A father who ignores me. Who doesn’t even
trust
me. Friends I can’t see, and a Pod that’s an Aether storm away from ruin. You think I’m going to miss any of that? I’m
already
on the outside.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. Calming himself. “Do we have a deal or not?”

He was a long way from the cocky, controlling Soren she remembered. That night in Ag 6 had transformed both of them. “Things aren’t any easier out here.”

“Does that mean yes?”

She nodded. “But only if you look after someone until you come out here.”

He froze. “Caleb? Done. Even though he’s a worthless piece of—”

“I wasn’t talking about Caleb.”

Soren blinked at her. “You mean the Savage’s nephew? The Outsider who
broke
my
jaw
?”

“He did it because you were attacking me,” she snapped. “Don’t forget that part. And you better think again if you’re coming Outside for revenge. Perry would destroy you.”

Soren put his hands up. “Easy, tigress. I was just asking. So what do you want me to do—babysit the kid?”

She shook her head. “Make sure Talon stays safe—no matter what. And I want to see him.”

“When?”

“Right now.”

Soren worked his jaw side to side as he stared down at her. “Fine,” he said. “I’m curious. Let’s go see the little Savage.”

Ten minutes later, Aria sat on the pier and watched as Talon taught Soren how to cast out. Athletic and competitive, Soren actually wanted to learn, and Talon picked up on that. As she watched them prattle on about bait, she felt unexpectedly optimistic. Somehow the two castoffs were getting along.

Soren had a fish on the line as she left them and moved through the commands to shut off the Eye. Aria slipped it back into her satchel and woke Roar.

It was time to meet Sable.

A
week after the raid, Perry woke in the darkness. The house was still, his men lay scattered in slumbering mounds across the floor, and the first tinge of daylight bled through the cracks in the shutters.

He’d dreamed of Aria. Of the time months ago when she’d convinced him to sing to her. His voice rough and breaking, he’d sung the words of the Hunter’s Song while she listened, nestled in his arms.

Perry pressed his fingers to his eyes until he saw stars instead of her face. He’d been such a fool.

He pulled himself to his feet and wove past the Six to the loft. Gren still hadn’t returned from the journey to Marron’s, and as Perry had feared, the Tides were going hungry. He saw it in the new angles in Willow’s face. Heard it in the sharp edge in the Six’s voices. A constant ache had settled in his gut, and yesterday he’d needed to cut a new notch in his belt. He didn’t feel it yet, but he worried that weakness would come next.

Perry couldn’t spend any more effort on fields that might end up burning. Between overhunting and Aether storms, tracking game was nearly impossible. So they relied on the sea more than ever and managed, most of the time, to fill the cooking pots at the end of the day. No one complained about the taste of food anymore. Hunger had done away with that.

Their position by the coast was an advantage other tribes wanted. Reports came daily from his patrol of bands sniffing at the edge of his territory. Perry knew he couldn’t wait for Marron’s help anymore. He couldn’t wait for the next storm or the next raid. He needed to do something.

He climbed a few rungs until he could see into the loft. Cinder lay sprawled across the mattress, snoring softly. The night of the raid, he’d scurried up there, terrified and teary, and it had been his place ever since. His eyes twitched in sleep, a bead of drool slipping down the side of his mouth. His black wool cap was crumpled in his hand.

Perry was reminded of Talon then, though he wasn’t sure why. He guessed Cinder to be about five years older than Talon, and they were nothing alike in temperament. Perry had been with Talon every day of his life until he’d been kidnapped. He’d held Talon in his arms and watched him drift asleep, and seen him unfold, day by day, into a child who was gentle and wise.

He knew next to nothing about Cinder; the boy hadn’t breathed a word about his past, or his power. When he did speak, it was often to snap and bite. He was guarded and reactive, but Perry felt a bond with him. Maybe he didn’t
know
Cinder, but he understood him.

Perry jostled him lightly. “Wake up. I need you to come with me.”

Cinder’s eyes flew open, and then he climbed down with a clumsy, noisy thump.

Reef and Twig woke. Hyde and Hayden too. Even Strag did. They looked at one another, and then Reef said, “I’ll go,” and rose to follow Perry.

It was just as well. Perry had planned to ask Reef along anyway.

Since the raid, the Six were as protective over him as ever. Perry let them be. He grabbed his bow by the front door, glimpsing the scars Cinder had given him. Like everyone, Perry was made of flesh and bone. He burned and bled. He’d survived the raid and the Aether storm, but how many times would he cheat death? There was a time for risk and a time for caution. Always he struggled to choose between them, but it was something he was learning.

Aether spread across the sky in waves, blue and glowing. Thicker than he’d ever seen, even in the harshest winters. The sun would rise and the day would brighten a bit, but they would still be in the blue, marbled light.

With Cinder and Reef at his sides, Perry took to the northern trail beyond the compound, passing a field of dead wood that tickled his nose with fine ash and left Reef sneezing. Neither of them asked where Perry was taking them—for which he was grateful. With every step, his pulse beat faster.

He glanced at Cinder, who was anxious, his temper vibrant and green. They hadn’t talked about what had happened in the raid. Perry had taken him aside a few minutes a day and showed him how to shoot a bow. Cinder was terrible—skitty and impatient—but he tried. And he seemed to have grown closer to Willow, who’d likely saved his life. They sat together in the cookhouse now, and a few days ago Perry had run into them on the harbor trail and seen Willow wearing Cinder’s cap.

The dirt path narrowed as it wove farther away from the compound. The earth was uneven and rocky here, no good for farming, but it was a good place to hunt—it had been, when that was how he spent his days. After an hour, the trail cut west and brought them to a cliff overlooking the sea. Below, the bluff wrapped around a small cove. Black rocks of every size jutted up along the beach and out on the water.

Perry glanced back at Reef and Cinder. “There’s a cave down there that I need you to see.”

Reef pushed his braids back, looked at him with an expression he couldn’t decipher. Perry could’ve searched for his temper, but chose not to. He climbed down the craggy slope, over rocks and hard sand and tussocks of grass. He’d done this a hundred times with Roar and Liv and Brooke. This climb had meant freedom then. An escape from the never-ending chores at the compound, and the closeness of tribe life. Now, instead of feeling eagerness to reach a hideaway, he felt like he was heading into a trap.

Skitty with nerves, he realized he was moving too quickly, and had to force himself to slow down and wait for Cinder and Reef, who were upsetting small avalanches behind him.

When they reached the sand, he was out of breath, but not from the climb. The steep walls of the bluff curved around him in the shape of a horseshoe, and he could already feel the weight of the rock inside the cave pressing down on him. The surf crashed against the shore. It felt like it pounded inside his chest. He couldn’t believe what he was doing. What he was about to say—and show them.

“This way.” He led them to the narrow cleft in the rock face—the entrance to the cave—and slipped inside before he could change his mind. He had to lean at an angle to fit along the narrow crevice until the way opened into the vast main cavity inside. Then he stood and made himself breathe, in and then out, in and then out, as he told himself the walls wouldn’t fold on him. Wouldn’t crush him beneath unknown tons.

It was cold and damp in the dim cavern, but sweat ran down his back and along his ribs, dripping from him. A brackish smell flowed into his nose, and a hollow silence roared in his ears. His chest was tight—as tight as it’d been under the churning water the day of the Aether storm. No matter how many times he’d been there, it was always this way at first.