She bent close to her mother’s face. Quietly she sang the Tosca aria, her voice warbling and breaking, but she knew it didn’t matter. She’d promised Lumina this aria—their aria—so she sang.
The door slid open as she finished. Three Guardians strode into the chamber.
“Wait,” she said. She wasn’t ready to say good-bye. Would she ever be?
One man zipped the bag closed with a quick tug and then wheeled the gurney out. The other two Guardians stayed behind.
“Give me your Smarteye,” said the one closest to her.
Behind him, the other Guardian held a white baton that made a fizzing electrical sound.
Aria lunged for the door on instinct.
The Guardian with the baton blocked her.
Light flashed before her eyes and then everything went black.
Chapter 42
PEREGRINE
Perry couldn’t leave. He stayed on the overlook, waiting for her to come back. What was happening? Had she found Lumina? Was she all right? He watched as the Guardians fixed the light below. He watched as they made their way back into the rescue center and as the night grew still again.
She didn’t come back out, and he realized she never would.
He spun and ran, tearing into the darkness. He should’ve headed west, toward home. But his legs followed the trail of smoke carrying on the wind. Soon he saw the glow of firelight flickering through a stand of trees. Heard the soft pluck of a guitar and men’s voices. He approached, counting six men gathered around the fire.
The guitar went silent as they spotted him. Perry slipped Talon’s knife from his belt. He held it out, bringing a few men to their feet. “A trade. For drink.” He nodded toward the bottles by the fire.
“It’s a fine blade,” said one man. He turned to another man who’d stayed where he sat across the fire. He had braided hair and a long scar from the bottom of his nose to his ear. He watched Perry for a long moment.
“Make the trade,” he said.
Perry handed the knife off, wanting to be rid of it and all its memories. He was given two bottles of Luster. One more than anyone should drink in one night. He took them and moved away from the fire. The guitar picked up its song again. Perry set the bottles down beside him. He’d take his father’s cue tonight.
An hour later, the first bottle stood on end beside him. It wove back and forth on the dirt, riding some invisible tide. Perry started on the other bottle. He should have known it wouldn’t be enough. His body was numb, but not the ache deep inside him. Aria was gone, and no amount of Luster would change that.
The braid-haired man kept looking across the fire at him. Come on, Perry pleaded silently, his hands curling into fists. Get up. Let’s get it over with. It took Braids a few more minutes to come over. He squatted a few feet away, sitting on his heels.
“I heard of you,” he said. He looked sturdy, thick, but Perry sensed he could be quick as a trap. The scar cut a deep line across his cheek.
“Good for you,” Perry slurred. “I got no idea who you are. Nice hair, though. My sister does hers like that.”
Braids looked right at Perry’s burnt hand. “Dispersed life not suiting you, Tider? No elder brother to look after you? To keep you out of trouble?” Braids set a hand down on the dirt and leaned forward. “You reek of misery.”
He was a Scire. Braids would know Perry’s temper right now. How he hurt. How just breathing felt like work. It should have worried him, fighting someone who had the same advantages he did. But Perry heard himself laugh.
“You reek too, man,” Perry said. “Like you’ve been chewing on cud.”
Braids stood. He kicked the full bottle of Luster, sending it spinning into the darkness. The other men rushed over, their excitement like sparks in Perry’s nose. He’d figured he would end up brawling tonight. He knew how people reacted at the sight of him. What man wouldn’t stand taller after beating the spit out of someone like him?
Perry grabbed his knife and stood. “Let’s get to it. See what you can do.”
Braids squared off, flashing a wicked piece of steel with serrated teeth. More a saw than a knife. He looked steady and moved smoothly, but his temper was streaked through with fear.
Perry grinned. “You changing your mind?”
Braids came at him like a shot. Perry felt the bite of the knife on his arm, but not the pain of the wound it opened. A solid wound. The blood that poured from it was dark in the Aether light. For a second, all he could do was watch his blood leak out of him. Run down his arm.
Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Perry had never fought anyone drunk. He moved too slowly. His legs were too heavy. Maybe it had worked for his father because Perry had been a boy. How hard could it be to hit a kid who’d stood there, wanting it? Looking for anything he could to make things right?
He choked back a sudden rise of bile, realizing the choice he’d have to make if Braids managed to get a knife against his throat. Pledge fealty or die. An easy decision.
“You’re nothing like I’d heard,” Braids said. “Peregrine of the Tides. Twice Marked.” He laughed. “You’re not worth the air you breathe.”
Now was the time to shut him up. Perry spun the blade in his hand, almost dropping it. He made a move. A thrust that wasn’t nearly as fast as it should’ve been. He almost laughed. Knives had never been his weapon. The movement brought another wave of nausea, this one powerful enough to double him up.
Braids rushed him as he choked back the urge to vomit. He drove his knee into Perry’s face. Perry managed to turn his head. Took the brunt of the blow on the temple. He’d spared his nose, but he hit the ground hard. Saw the creep of darkness threatening to take him away.