Perry looked to the ceiling, keeping his breath steady. He wanted, more than anything, to endure what would come next without begging. Even when his father beat him as a boy, he’d never begged. He wasn’t going to start now.
“I can’t hurt Cinder physically,” Sable said. “That would be counterproductive. But I can make him understand that until he concedes, he’ll suffer—through you.”
He turned his attention to the table; his hand hovered over pliers before he picked up the mallet. He tested the weight of the tool in his hand.
Perry could tell it was substantial.
“I’m thinking bruises. They’re showy. Not very messy, and—”
“Get on with it,” Perry snapped.
Sable slammed the mallet down on his arm. It struck Perry’s bicep, over his Markings. Bursts of red exploded before his eyes. A sound slipped out of him, like he was lifting a huge weight. He held on, waiting as the pain began to fade.
“There has to be an alternative to this,” Hess said.
“He’s our leverage, Hess, as you said. Our only means of breaking down the boy. And the alternative is that we die. How does that sound to you?”
Hess glanced at the door behind him and fell silent.
“Relax,” said Sable. “I hit him harder than I intended.” He looked back at Perry. “You know I’m being merciful, don’t you? I could find the girl he likes—what’s her name?” he asked Kirra.
“Willow.”
“I could have Willow on this table instead. You wouldn’t choose that, would you?”
Perry shook his head. His throat had gone dry, and his arm had its own heartbeat. “There is one thing you should know,” he said.
Sable’s eyes narrowed. “And what is that?”
“I don’t bruise easily.”
It was a stupid thing to say, but it gave him some small feeling of control over the situation. And the look on Sable’s face, surprised, incensed, was worth it.
“Let’s find out,” he said, tightly. And the mallet came down again.
This one was easier to endure than the first strike. Every one that followed became easier still as Perry retreated into his mind. His father had prepared him for this, and he felt a strange sense of gratitude. A euphoric closeness to times past, which had been terrible, but which had included Vale and Liv. They’d made him good at finding quiet, even peacefulness, in the face of pain.
When Sable came to Perry’s hands, tears pricked at his eyes. They hurt the worst, maybe because they had been smashed so many times before.
Hess turned green and left first. Kirra followed soon after with the dark-haired guard.
Only the men posted at the door stayed, too afraid of Sable to leave.
23
ARIA
Something terrible was happening to Perry.
Aria felt it.
“Sable! Hess!” she yelled again. “Where are you?” She pounded on the heavy steel door, screams ripping through her throat. “I’ll kill you!”
“Aria, stop.” Roar came up behind her. He wrapped her up, pinning her arms.
“Don’t touch me!” She struggled against him. “Let go! You did this!” She didn’t want to turn on him, but she couldn’t hold back. “You did this, Roar!”
He held on, and he was stronger, and she couldn’t push him away. She stopped fighting and stood, trapped against him, her muscles shaking.
“I know,” he said, when she was still. “I’m sorry. I know I did this.”
She hadn’t expected him to say that. Hadn’t expected to hear the guilt in his voice. “Just let me go.”
Roar released her and she spun, looking from his face to Soren’s, seeing their worry and fear, and suddenly tears poured from her eyes.
Her gaze cast around the small room. She needed to get away from them. With no better options, she climbed to the upper bunk and curled as close to the wall as she could, trying to keep back the sobs that tore through her.
Below, Soren said, “Do something, Outsider.”
“Are you blind?” Roar replied. “I tried.”
“Well, keep trying! I can’t take this.”
She felt the mattress sag. “Aria . . .” Roar’s hand rested on her shoulder, but she stiffened and moved away.
She was crying too hard to talk, and if he touched her, he would know that she hated him right now. She hated everyone. Cinder, for having been captured. Her mother, for dying. Her father, for being nothing but a figment of her imagination. Liv, because the thought of her only made Aria ache more.
Why was it so hard to bring together the people she loved and keep them safe? Why couldn’t she just wake up and spend a day—one day—without running or fighting or losing someone?
Most of all, she hated herself for her weakness.
This would help nothing, but she couldn’t stop. Her eyes still ran with tears. Her sleeve was soaked. Her hair. The thin mattress. She kept waiting to dry up, but the tears kept coming.
She didn’t know how much time had passed when she heard Soren.
“That almost killed me,” he said.
She’d fallen quiet, so he must have thought she was asleep.
Roar said nothing in reply.
“Are you going to eat?” Soren asked.
Food must have been delivered. She hadn’t even noticed.
“No. I’m not going to eat.” Roar’s response was icy, every word a jab.
“Me neither,” Soren said. “It doesn’t look that bad, though.”
“Your father runs this whole thing. Shouldn’t you have a private room somewhere?”
“Whatever, Outsider.”
As the quiet stretched out, Aria closed her swollen eyes. What was the point of all of their sacrifices and struggles? Why bother fighting for the Still Blue if Dwellers and Outsiders were only going to tear at each other’s throats?
She thought of the Tides and the Reverie group back in the cave. Was Willow watching Caleb make his sketches? Were Reef and the Six extracting the details of their mission from Jupiter? Or were they snapping and snarling at each other like Soren and Roar?
She didn’t want to fight just so there would be more fighting. She wanted to believe—needed to believe—that things could get better.
“So . . . that girl, Brooke?” Soren said, interrupting her thoughts. “What’s she like?”
“Get her out of your head right now,” Roar said.
Soren huffed. “I saw her looking at me when we were changing into our uniforms.”
“She was looking at you because you’re built like a bull.”
Soren’s laugh was nervous, clipped. “Is that good?”
“It’d be great if she were a cow.”
“What’s your problem, Savage?”
Aria held her breath, feeling like the future of everything hinged on Roar’s response. Come on, she silently pleaded. Say something, Roar. Say anything to him.
Roar gave a long sigh of resignation. “Brooke is a Seer, and she’s lethal with a bow. She doesn’t have the same range as Perry does, but she’s as good a shot. Maybe even better— but don’t ever tell him I said that. She comes off harsh until you get to know her, and then she’s . . . less harsh. She’s as competitive as they come and about as loyal. You already know what she looks like, so . . . that’s Brooke.”
“Thanks,” Soren said.
Hearing the smile in his voice, she smiled too.
“Oh, one other thing you should know,” Roar said. “She was with Perry for a while.”
“Nooooo,” Soren groaned. “You just ruined it for me.”
Agreed, Aria thought. Ruined it for me, too.
“So, he got Brooke and her,” Soren continued, indignant. “How does that even happen? He barely talks!”
Roar answered smoothly, like he’d given this some thought. “He ignores girls, and it drives them mad.”
“I can’t tell if you’re being serious,” Soren said.
“Oh, I am. I could put on a show, I could get everyone laughing, but the next day I’m the one who gets the questions. ‘Why was Perry so quiet? Was he angry about something? Was he sad? What do you think he was thinking, Roar?’”
Aria bit her lip, teetering between laughing and crying. She’d been groomed into a performer, but he was a natural. Listening to him doing women’s voices was almost too much.
He went on. “Girls don’t understand that he was being quiet because he is quiet. It makes them crazy. They can’t resist trying to draw him out. They want to fix his quietness.”
“So, you’re saying I should ignore Brooke?” Soren asked.
“Look, I don’t think you stand a chance no matter what you do, especially now that I know you better, but yes. Ignoring her is your best move.”
“Thanks, man,” Soren said, his tone earnest. “If I see her again, I’m going to do that.”
If.
It seemed like that if was always there. The tick after the passing of every second.
If they got out of the Komodo—
If they reached the Still Blue—
If she saw Perry again—
She wanted the conversation to turn back to lighter things, to Roar’s stories and Soren’s sarcasm, but the moment had passed.
Aria wiped her cheeks, as though it would erase a few hours of crying from her face. She sat up, moving to the edge of her bed.
Soren sat on the lower bunk opposite her, his boxy frame propped over his knees. He was kneading his hands. Roar leaned against the bed frame, his crossed feet wiggling anxiously. Seeing her, they both froze.
She knew she must look like a mess. She felt like she had a sticky, salty film over her skin. Her eyes were almost swollen shut, she’d given herself a crying headache, and her wounded arm, her vestigial appendage, was curled tightly at her side.
It was a stupid time for vanity, considering everything that was happening, but she couldn’t remember ever feeling so pathetic.
Roar climbed up and sat beside her. He brushed her damp hair off her forehead and stared down at her with so much concern in his brown eyes that she had to fight back a fresh wave of tears.
“I hope you’re still angry with me,” he said. “I deserve it.”
She smiled. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Damn,” he said.
Aria looked at Soren, eager to focus on getting out of there again. “Did you talk to your father when they took you earlier?”
He nodded. “I did. He said his hands are tied. He didn’t actually use those words, but it was all this ‘Sable and I have a contract’ and ‘Sable is not one to underestimate others’ type of thing.”
She locked eyes with Roar and knew they were thinking the same thing: Hess was afraid of Sable. It didn’t surprise her. Was there anyone who didn’t fear Sable?
“My father said he would take me and you back,” Soren said to her. “He’ll bring us to the Still Blue. But no one else. The Hovers outside are all they have, and they’re expecting the crossing to be pure Aethery hell. He said he can’t take anyone who’d make it more difficult.”