Into the Still Blue
Page 22

“I’ll take her,” Loran said smoothly.
“No,” said the shorter Guardian. “We have orders.”
“It’s no trouble. I was heading there myself.”
“We were given explicit orders from our commander to transport her ourselves.”
Loran tipped his head down the corridor behind him. “Then you’d better carry them out.”
She was handed off, from Loran to the Guardians. In one swift stroke, he had avoided questions and diverted any suspicion away from himself. Clever, she had to admit. She looked back as she was led away for the second time that night.
Loran was still there, watching her.
Hess was waiting alone in the infirmary.
“Come in, Aria. Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to one of the cots.
The narrow room smelled antiseptic and familiar, its rows of cots and metal counters jogging Aria’s memory. She pictured Lumina in a doctor’s smock, her hair pulled back in a sleek bun, her demeanor simultaneously calm and alert. Lumina had made any garment elegant, and every action— sitting, standing, sneezing—graceful.
Aria didn’t see herself that way. That poised. She was messier. More impatient. More volatile. She had an artistic side, which Lumina hadn’t possessed.
Was it Loran? Did these sides of her come from him? A soldier?
Aria blinked hard, willing herself not to think about this now.
“Where’s our coffee, Hess?” she said as she pulled herself onto the cot and rested her arm on her lap. “Our little table along the Grand Canal?”
Hess crossed his arms and ignored her comment. “Soren said you wanted to see me. And he mentioned that you’re injured. I’ve brought someone to take a look at you. I have a doctor waiting outside.”
Between her time with Perry and then Loran, she had almost forgotten about the pain. Now the ache came back, originating at her bicep and rolling up her arm. “I don’t want any favors from you.”
Aria silently cursed herself. This was no time to be principled. He was crooked and heartless, but she could’ve used help for her arm. At least the pain seemed to be fading, she noticed.
Hess’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Suit yourself.” He went to a rolling chair that sat by the door and pushed it in front of Aria’s cot. Then he sat, propping his arms on his legs, and stared up at her from his lower position. Burly like Soren, he seemed to engulf the small chair.
As Aria waited for him to speak, she forced her mind to clear. He had a motive for bringing her there, but she had her own motives too. He was their best chance of escaping. Since Hess never did any favors, she’d need to convince him that helping her was in his best interest. Pushing Loran as far out of her thoughts as possible, she focused on her goal.
“I’ve dedicated my life to keeping Reverie and its citizens safe,” Hess said. “But I never expected that we would come to this. I never anticipated that I’d have to leave so many people behind. That I’d need to leave my own son. But I saw no other way. Soren wouldn’t budge, and I had no other recourse. I created a rift between us because of the actions I was forced to take. Perhaps you also suffered as a result of my decisions.”
He apologized just like Soren, vaguely, lacking any real admission of wrongdoing—a politician’s apology—but his back was rigid, and the muscles in his neck seemed ready to snap. Real regret existed inside him somewhere. Maybe even a heart.
Aria nodded and tried to look touched by what he’d just said. He was moving in the direction she wanted; she couldn’t afford to be picky.
“I can bring you on, Aria. I’m sure Soren told you. When Cinder is strong enough, and compliant, you can cross to the Still Blue with us. But I can’t accommodate your friend.”
“Peregrine?”
Hess shook his head. “No, he is a certainty. He will come. He’s essential because of his connection to the boy.”
“You mean Roar,” she said. “You can’t take Roar.”
Hess nodded. “He’s a danger. He has history with Sable.”
She couldn’t hold back a laugh. “We all have history at this point, Hess—don’t you think? And it’s not just me and Roar. There are hundreds of innocent people out there. Some of them are the people you left behind in Reverie. This is your chance. You can still help them. You can correct your mistake.”
Red patches bloomed over his neck and his cheeks. “You are being naive. There’s no way for me to accommodate any of them. Sable is accounting for everyone. There simply isn’t enough room. Besides, I cannot ask him for anything else. I can’t afford to give him anything more. He is not dealing with transitioning his people to a new environment. I am. Everything is different out here. Do you know what it’s like to feel hunger for the first time? To lose everything you’ve ever known?”
He spoke in an impassioned rush, as though a floodgate of worries had opened. But he stopped himself abruptly, like he’d said much more than he’d intended.
“Yes,” she said softly. “I know what those things are like.”
In the pause that followed, Aria’s heart thumped heavily in her chest. This was her chance to bring him over to their side. Perry’s words echoed in her mind. Let’s give him another option.
“There’s another way to the Still Blue, Hess.” She leaned forward. “You have the advantage. You have the ships. You don’t need Sable for the coordinates—”
“I have the coordinates. That’s not the issue. Control over the boy is the only thing we lack.”
“Cinder is Peregrine’s . . . not Sable’s.”
Hess drew a slow breath. She could almost hear his mind opening to other possibilities, fanning out like a deck of cards.
He wanted to believe her. She could do this. She could convince him.
“Peregrine’s tribe is roughly the same number as Sable’s. Four hundred. Think about it. Anything you need to know about being out here, about the outside world, Peregrine can help you—and you can trust him. You don’t have that with Sable. Think about afterward. When you get to the Still Blue, what do you think will happen? Do you think the two of you will suddenly become friends?”
Hess scoffed. “I don’t need friends.”
“But you don’t need an enemy, either. Don’t fool yourself into thinking Sable is anything other than that. As much as I hate you, I won’t double-cross you and neither will Peregrine. Sable will.”
Hess thought for a long moment, his eyes holding steady on her. “Tell me,” he said. “How is it that you’ve come to trust the Outsiders, and they you?”
Aria shrugged. “I started with the right one.”
Hess stared at his hands. She knew he was imagining how he could cut Sable out. She needed to convince him, but she had to be careful. Her fear of Sable dug deep into her bones, but Hess couldn’t be underestimated.
Hess lifted his head. “I want my son to come with me. I want you to help convince him that he should.”
Aria shook her head. “You need to help me this time. Not the other way around. This is your chance to choose right.”
“I have.” Hess stood and moved to the door, stopping there. “I’m not under any delusions. I know the kind of man Sable is. But I also know he won’t cross me. He needs me or he goes nowhere.”
“He needs you like he needs a meal.”
Wrong thing to say; she’d pushed too far.
Hess stiffened, sucking in a breath. Then he turned his back on her and left.
Later, with Soren snoring in the opposite cot, Aria told Roar everything. She started with what had been done to Perry.
Roar sat up and pushed his knuckles into his eyes. Long minutes passed and he didn’t say a word.
Watching him, Aria remembered the days after Liv had died.
She had considered not telling Roar. Did he really need to hear that the same man who’d killed Liv had tortured his best friend? But she’d needed to talk to him. She’d needed to release some of her anger or her mind would explode. And they were good at this, she and Roar. They had practice handing their worries back and forth.
She broke the silence herself, telling Roar about Loran, and that brought him back to her. He moved to her side and took her hand. He was careful. Gentle as he curled his fingers into hers.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
She knew he wasn’t asking about her injured hand. “Like I finally got what I’ve always wanted, but it’s not what I actually wanted.”
Roar nodded, like she’d made sense, and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Perry and I,” he said after a while, “neither one of us had the best luck with parents.”
Aria peered at him. She found him looking at her from the corner of his eye too.
She knew little about Roar’s past, considering how close they were. When he was eight, he’d come to the Tides with his grandmother, hungry and homeless, the soles in his shoes worn through. From the way Roar had always spoken, that was the moment his life began. He had never mentioned anything prior to that day—until now.
“My mother wasn’t the most monogamous of women. I don’t remember very much about her, other than that. Which makes us very different, considering Liv is the only girl I’ve ever been with, and she was going to be . . . I wanted her to be . . .” He sucked on his bottom lip, lost in his thoughts for a moment. “I never wanted anyone else.”
“I know.”
He smiled. “I know you know. . . . I meant to tell you about my father, not about Liv. Here’s what I know about him.” Roar released her hand and counted on slender fingers. “He was handsome.”
“I could have guessed.”
“Thank you—and a drunk.”
“I could have guessed that too.”
“Right. Well then, what am I going to say next?”
Aria sucked on her bottom lip. “That I have the opportunity to know more than two things about my father?”
He nodded. “It seems possible. He sought you out, Aria. He didn’t need to help you. Or tell you who he is.”
All true. “What if I hate what I learn about him? He’s Sable’s right-hand man. How can I respect him?”
“I was sworn to Vale for ten years and I hated him.” Roar glanced at the door, and then lowered his voice. “Aria, your father . . . he could help us get out of here.”
“Maybe,” she said. But she didn’t see how. They were on opposite sides.
She let out a slow breath and rested her head on his shoulder. She’d always imagined that finding her father would be such a happy occasion. She didn’t know what she felt now, but it leaned closer to terror.
As the minutes passed with Soren snoring in the other bunk, her mind wandered back to Perry. She pictured him walking through the woods, his bow over his shoulder. She imagined him dressed in a Guardian uniform, flashing a smile at her that carried a touch of wry embarrassment. She saw him lying on a cot, so beaten he could barely move.
“I can’t stop thinking about him,” she said, when she couldn’t stand it any longer.