He was taken through a heavy steel door into a wide, empty hall with gleaming tile floors. Repellent smells surged into his nose. Alcohol. Plastic. Urine. Blood. Disease. The medical facility’s scents had reminded him of Mila last year. Now he thought of Talon, and his legs almost gave out beneath him.
He’d gotten here. Marron would fix the Smarteye and he’d find Talon.
A man in a doctor’s coat asked Perry something about his hand, jumbled words Perry couldn’t focus on. Perry looked at Roar, hoping he knew the answer, when shouts burst across the hall.
“Cinder,” Roar said, but Perry was already running, pushing past the knot of people clustered by a door. He scanned the room. Cloth partitions divided it into smaller areas with cots. Cinder slumped against the far left corner, a feral look in his black eyes. His noxious scent burst in the back of Perry’s nose, followed by the icy burn of his fear.
“Don’t come near me! Stay back!”
“He was unconscious,” said one of the doctors. “I was trying to give him an IV.”
Cinder hurled curses at them.
“Easy,” Perry said. “Settle down, Cinder.”
“We need to tranquilize him,” someone said.
Cinder’s eyes snapped over Perry’s shoulder and he yelled, “Get back or I’ll torch you!”
The sting in Perry’s nose surged as the lights flickered and then went out. Perry blinked hard, willing his eyes to adjust, but he was no good in pitch-black. “Get out,” Perry said, spreading his arms. He couldn’t let Cinder burn them, too. “Roar, get them out.”
Fumbling, feeling through the dark, he and Roar herded everyone outside. Then Perry shut the door, leaning against it as he caught his breath. He couldn’t see anything. For long seconds, all he heard were the muffled voices in the hall. Then Cinder spoke.
“Who’s there?”
“It’s me. Perry.” Perry frowned. Had he even told Cinder his name until now?
A sliver of warm light peeked beneath the door. Candlelight out in the hall. Enough for the room to take shape before him.
“You like getting hurt?” Cinder asked. “You want me to burn your other hand?”
Perry didn’t have any fight left in him. He didn’t think Cinder did either. The kid was still shoved against the corner, barely keeping himself upright. Perry walked to the cot nearest to Cinder. It creaked as he sat down.
“What are you doing?” Cinder asked after a moment.
“Sitting.”
“You should leave, Scire.”
Perry didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure he could leave. The last bit of strength drained out of him, leaving his muscles twitching. The sweat that covered his shirt was cooling.
“Where am I?” Cinder asked.
“A friend’s. His name is Marron.”
“Why are you here, Scire? You think you can help me? Is that it?” He waited for an answer. When Perry didn’t give him one, Cinder slid to the floor.
In the low light, Perry saw that Cinder had dropped his head into his hands. His temper sank, growing cool and dark, until it was a blackness so complete and cold that Perry’s heart began to pound. There was something familiar about it. About a temper like this.
“You should’ve just left me. Didn’t you see what I am?” The boy’s voice broke, and then Perry heard soft whimpering sounds.
Perry swallowed the tight feeling in his throat, keeping still and quiet on the cot as salt mixed with all the scents in the room. Slowly, he told himself. This boy had a rip in him. A wound that ran soul deep. Perry knew what that was like. This would take time.
“Can you . . . can you move your fingers?”
Perry looked down at his hand. “Not much. But it’ll be easier when the swelling goes down, I think.”
Cinder let out a moan. “I could have killed you.”
“You didn’t.”
“But I could have! It’s just in me and then it’s out and people get hurt and die and I did it. I don’t want to be like this.” Cinder buried his face as he fell into harsh, raw sobs. “Get out. Please go.”
Perry didn’t want to leave him this way, but he was sure of one thing. Cinder was filled with shame. If he stayed there now, Cinder would never look him in the eye again. And he wanted that. He needed to talk to this boy again. Perry slid off the cot onto weary legs.
He would go for now, but he would return.
Chapter 23
ARIA
“Aria?”
Aria pushed herself out of the deepest sleep she’d ever been in. She blinked until the blurriness cleared.
Perry sat at the edge of the bed. “I’m here. Marron . . . he said to tell you.”
She knew he’d gotten there safely. She’d been with Marron when Slate came with the news. But seeing him, she was rocked again by relief. “You took so long. I thought the Croven had gotten you.”
His eyes glinted with amusement. “No wonder you were sleeping so well.”
She smiled. When Slate had shown her to the bedroom, she’d only planned to wash her hands and get off her feet until Perry’s hand was treated. But she’d had no hope of staying awake when she saw the bed.
“You’re all right?” she asked. Mud crusted to the side of his jaw. His lips were dry and cracked, but she didn’t see any new injuries. “How’s your hand?”
He lifted his arm. A white cast reached from his fingers to his elbow. “It’s soft inside and cool. They gave me some pain medicine, too.” He smiled. “Works better than Luster.”
“What about Cinder?”
Perry looked down at his cast, his grin fading. “He’s in the medical ward.”
“Do they think they can help him?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t said anything about him, and Cinder won’t let anyone near him. I’ll go see him later.” He sighed and rubbed tiredly at his eyes. “I couldn’t leave him out there.”
“I know,” she said. She couldn’t either. But she also couldn’t deny the danger in bringing Cinder around other people. He was a boy, but she’d seen what he did to Perry’s hand.
Perry tipped his head to the side. “I gave Marron the Smarteye. He’s working on fixing it. He’ll let us know when there’s news.”
“We made it, ally,” she said.
“We did.” He smiled. It was the lion grin she’d only seen a few times. Sweet and engaging, with a hint of shyness. It showed a whole part of him she didn’t know. Heart pounding, she looked down and saw that they were on the same bed. Alone.
He tensed like he’d just noticed the same thing and then his gaze flicked to the door. She didn’t want him to leave. He was finally talking to her without the grit of anger between them. Without any help from Luster or Roar’s easy chatter. She said the first thing that came to mind. “Where’s Roar?”
His eyes widened slightly. “Downstairs. I can go get him—”
“No . . . I just wondered if he’d made it back safe.”
It was too late. He’d already reached the door. “Not a scratch on him.” He hesitated for a moment. “I’m going to go pass out somewhere,” he said, and left.
For a few moments, she stared at the spot where he’d been. Why had he hesitated? What had he wanted to say?
She burrowed back into the warm covers. She was still in her filthy clothes, but she felt the soft pressure of bandages on her feet. Vaguely she remembered answering Slate’s question about her limp.
A lamp on the bedside illuminated soft cream walls. She was in a room, four solid walls around her. It was so quiet. She didn’t hear the rustling wind, or the Croven’s bells, or the sound of her running feet. She looked up and saw a ceiling that was still. Perfectly still. She hadn’t felt this safe since she’d last been with Lumina.
The bed was low to the ground and sleek, but covered in heavy luxurious damask. A Matisse hung on one wall, just a simple sketch of a tree, but the lines brimmed with expression. Her eyes narrowed. Was it a real Matisse? An oriental rug spread autumn colors across the floor. How had Marr
on collected all of these things?
Sleep came, tugging at her again. As she drifted off, she wished for another dream of Lumina. A better one than the last. In this one, she’d sing her mother’s favorite aria. Then Lumina would leave her seat, come up to the stage, and hug Aria close.
They’d be together again.
When she woke again, she unwrapped the bandages from her feet and headed to an adjoining bathroom, where she showered for the next hour. She almost wept over how good the hot water felt cascading over her tired muscles. Her feet were a mess. Bruised. Blistered. Scabbed. She washed them and wrapped them in towels.
She was surprised to find the bed made when she returned to the bedroom. A small bundle of folded clothing rested on the duvet, along with soft silk slippers. A red rose sat on top of the stack. Aria picked it up gingerly and breathed in the fragrance. Beautiful. Softer than the scent of roses in the Realms. But roses in the Realms didn’t make her heart race. Had Perry remembered her asking about their scent? Was this his answer?
The clothes were pure white, the kind of white she hadn’t seen since she’d left Reverie, and far more fitted than the camos she’d worn for the past week. She pulled them on, noticing the change in the shapes of her legs and calves. She’d grown stronger despite eating such meager amounts.
She heard a knock at the door. “Come in.”
A young woman entered, dressed in a white doctor’s smock. She was striking, dark and long-limbed, with high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes. A braid wove back from her forehead, ending in a rope that swung in front of her as she knelt by the bed. She set down a steel case and unsnapped the thick buckles.
“I’m Rose,” she said. “I’m one of the doctors here. I’m here to have another look at your feet.”
Another look. Rose had already tended to her while she’d slept. Aria sat on the bed as Rose unwrapped the towels. The medical implements in the steel case were modern, similar to what they had in the Pod.
“We provide medical services,” Rose said, following Aria’s gaze. “It’s one of the ways Marron sustains Delphi. People travel weeks to receive care here. These look much better already. The skin is closing nicely. This will sting for a moment.”
“What is this place?” Aria asked.
“It’s been many things. Before the Unity it was a mine and then a nuclear shelter. Now it’s one of the only places to live in safety.” Rose’s eyes flicked up. “We avoid trouble with the outside most of the time.”
Aria couldn’t say anything to that. They had shown up wounded, and with cannibals chasing after them. Rose was right. They hadn’t exactly made a graceful entrance.
She watched quietly as Rose applied a gel to the bottoms of her feet. A cool, tightening sensation came, followed by relief from pain that had haunted her for a week. Rose pressed a device that resembled a vitals reader to Aria’s wrist. She checked the small screen on the back after it beeped, frowning. “How long have you been out here?”
“Eight—I mean ten days,” she answered, adding the two days she’d been unconscious with fever.
Rose’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You’re dehydrated and undernourished. I’ve never treated a Dweller before, but as far as I can tell you’re otherwise in good health.”
Aria shrugged. “I don’t feel like I’m . . .”
Dying.
She couldn’t finish the sentence. No one was more surprised than she was about her health. She remembered laying her head on Perry’s satchel early in their odyssey. She’d been so tired and sore to the bone. She still felt that way, like her muscles and her feet needed to heal, but now she had the sense they would heal. She didn’t feel cramps anymore, or headaches, or the grip of illness.
How much longer would her health hold? How long would it take to fix the Smarteye and reach Lumina?
Rose returned the reader to the case.
“Did you treat Peregrine?” Aria asked. “Who I came here with?” She could too easily picture the blisters across the solid bones of his knuckles.
“I did. You’ll heal faster than he will.” She rested her hand on the opened lid, ready to close it. “He’s been here before.”
Aria knew she was being baited. “Has he?”
“A year ago. We grew close,” Rose said, leaving no room for misunderstanding. “At least, I thought we did. Scires will do that. They know exactly what to say and how it affects you. They’ll give you what you want, but they won’t give you themselves.” She pushed up her sleeve, showing unmarked skin around her biceps. “Not unless you’re one of them.”
“That was so . . . open of you,” Aria said. She couldn’t help imagining Perry with her. Beautiful. A handful of years older than Aria and Perry both. She felt her face go hot but couldn’t stop herself from asking the next question. “Do you still love him?”
Rose laughed. “It’s probably best if I don’t answer that. I’m married now and with child.”
Aria stared at Rose’s flat stomach. Was she always this candid? “I don’t know why you’re telling me all of this.”
“Marron told me to help you so that’s what I’m doing. I knew what I was getting into. I knew it would never work. I think you should know too.”
“Thanks for the warning but I’m leaving. Besides, Perry and I are just friends. Even that’s questionable.”
“He wanted me to see to you first until he learned you were asleep. He told me you walked a week on those cuts without once moaning about it. I don’t think there’s much question at all.” Rose shut the case with a loud snap, the hint of a smile on her lips.
“Tread carefully, Aria. And try to stay off your feet.”
Chapter 24
ARIA
Aria stepped into the hallway, Rose’s words still echoing in her mind. Tapestries hung on smooth turquoise walls, the color picking up the rich threads that wove an ancient battle scene. A lighted alcove to one end housed a life-size marble statue of a man and woman locked in either a fierce struggle or a passionate embrace. It was hard to tell. To the other end of the hall, stairs with a gilt-leafed banister swept downward. Aria smiled. Everything in Delphi came from a different time and place. Marron’s home felt like being in a dozen Realms at once.
Perry’s voice drifted up the stairs. For a moment, she closed her eyes and listened to his deep drawl. Even among Outsiders, he had a distinctive, unhurried way of talking. He spoke of his home, the Tide Valley. Of his worries about Aether storms and raids by other tribes. For someone who hardly said anything, he was a compelling speaker. Concise but sure. After a few minutes, she shook her head at her own shameless eavesdropping.
The stairs took her back down to the room with the couches. Roar sat on one, Perry sprawled across another. Marron perched by Roar, one rounded leg bouncing over the other. She didn’t see Cinder but that didn’t surprise her. Perry stopped speaking and sat up when he saw her. She tried not to think of what that meant, that he didn’t want to continue in her presence.
He wore new clothes like she did. A shirt the color of sand. Leather pants that were closer to black than brown and weren’t patched and re-patched. His hair had been pulled back and it gleamed under the lights. He was drumming the fingers of his good hand against his cast. He was also pointedly not looking her way.
Marron came over and took her hands into his, the action so full of affection Aria couldn’t bring herself to pull away. He wore what Aria could only call a smoking jacket, a ridiculous burgundy velvet affair, trimmed and belted with black satin sashes.
“Ah,” he said, his cheeks plumping with a smile. “You received them. Not a bad fit, I see. I have other clothes being readied for you, my dear. But this will do fine for now. How are you, darling?”
“Good. Thank you for these. And for the rose,” she added, realizing it had come from Marron, along with the clothes.
Marron leaned in, giving her hands a squeeze. “A small gift for a great beauty.”
Aria laughed nervously. In Reverie, she wasn’t anything unus
ual. Only her voice set her apart from other people. To be praised for something she’d had no say in seemed odd, but it also felt nice.
“Shall we eat?” Marron asked. “We have much to discuss and might as well fill our stomachs as we do it. I’m sure you’re all quite hungry.”
They followed him into a dining room as lavishly decorated as the rest of Delphi. The walls were covered in crimson and gold fabric and hung floor to ceiling with oil portraits. Candlelight caught on crystal and silver, filling the room with sparkling light. The opulence sent a pang of sorrow through her. It reminded her of the Opera House.
“I’ve traded over my lifetime for these treasures,” Marron said at her side. “But meals should be revered, don’t you think?”
Roar pulled out a chair for her as Perry headed to the far side of the rectangular table. They’d hardly sat down when people arrived to pour them water and wine. They were well-dressed and fastidiously groomed. Aria was beginning to see what Marron had done in his compound. Work in exchange for safety. But the people who served him didn’t appear distressed. Everyone she had seen within Marron’s walls seemed healthy and content. And loyal, like Rose.
Marron lifted his glass, his soft bejeweled fingers fanning like a peacock’s feathers. Aria locked onto a flash of blue. Marron was wearing the ring with the blue stone that Perry had stashed away. Aria smiled to herself. She should stop making assumptions about roses and rings.
“To the return of old friends and to an unexpected but most welcome new one.”
Soup was brought out, the smell stirring her appetite to life. The others began to eat, but she set down her spoon. It was dizzying, going from the harsh outside world, from the sprint for their lives, to this sparkling feast. She should have adjusted faster, having fractioned through Realms her entire life. But she savored the moment, despite its strangeness, appreciating all that she saw before her.
They were safe. They were warm. They had food.
She picked up the spoon again, welcoming the weight of it in her hand. When she took her first sip, tastes burst like tiny fireworks over her tongue. It had been so long since she’d eaten anything rich. The soup, a creamy mushroom concoction, was delicious.
Under the Never Sky: The Complete Series Collection Page 17
