Into the Still Blue (33 page)

She’d passed hours this way, she was almost sure, but time didn’t feel right.

Nothing did.

When the Hover slowed, her stomach leaped into her throat. She jumped up, Roar right beside her.

“What’s going on?” Talon asked.

The question was suddenly on everyone’s lips.

“We’re here,” Sable said over the speaker, silencing them. “Or I should say,
almost
here. Before we make the crossing, why don’t we hear some words from your Blood Lord? Go ahead, Peregrine.”

Aria heard Perry clear his throat. Her eyes filled with tears, and he hadn’t even said anything yet.

“I’ve, uh . . . I’ve never been one for speeches,” he began. “Wish that weren’t the case right now.” His voice was even and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. Like he always sounded. “I want you to know that I did my best to look after you. I didn’t always succeed, but you’re not an easy group. I think that’s fair to say. You fought me sometimes. You argued with me. You expected me to be more than a simple hunter. And because of you, I became more than that. So I want to thank each of you for letting me lead you. And for the honor I’ve had of serving you.”

That was it.

Sable came back on. “I thought that was well said, actually. Very capable, your young lord. You’ll see him again soon, when we reach the Still Blue.”

He kept speaking, but Aria didn’t hear the rest.

Her gaze moved to the window again, and she went to it. People made way for her, clearing a path. Even Sable’s soldiers stepped aside for her. For Roar, Talon, and Brooke, who lined up beside her at the thick glass.

“There,” Brooke said, pointing. “Do you see them?”

42

T
he Dragonwing surged forward again, pushing Perry’s back against the seat and making Cinder gasp.

They passed the other Hovers in the fleet, one after another, and then there was no one left. Nothing in front of them but Aether in every direction.

“You’ll need to tell us how close you want to be,” Sable said.

Perry looked at Cinder, who bugged his eyes and shrugged.

It was such an honest reaction that Perry found himself smiling. None of them had been in this situation before; how close they should be was anyone’s guess.

Strangely, Perry felt better, his focus returning by the second. He’d said what he’d needed to say to the Tides. Now it was time for action—always where he felt surest.

The craft gave a sudden lurch that pushed him against his restraints, and then it began to shudder. The instrument panel came alive, flashing with red warning messages, and the blare of an alarm filled the cockpit with an urgent pulse.

Cinder blurted, “That’s good! We’re close enough!”

The craft slowed and then bobbed unsteadily in place. Here the ocean was even rougher, rising in huge swells. Perry estimated a distance of one hundred and fifty yards between them and the barrier. He’d have liked to fire an arrow at it. A dozen arrows. He’d have liked to be the one to pierce it and tear it down.

“Time to do what you’ve promised us, Cinder,” Sable said. “Do this, and we’ll get both of you home. Willow is waiting for you.”

Cinder eyes had glazed over. Silent tears spilled over, rolling down his cheeks.

Perry tugged his seat restraints off and stood, knowing this was the hardest thing he’d ever have to do. He sank into his legs to keep his balance in the pitching craft and unbuckled Cinder’s restraints.

“I’m right here,” he said, holding his hand down. “It’s all right. I’m going to help you.” Cinder’s arm shook violently as Perry helped him to his feet.

They moved into the small hold behind the cockpit together, Perry half carrying him.

The bay doors opened. Wind and spray swept inside in a violent rush. The air was cool and tasted of salt, as familiar to Perry as anything, except for the sting it carried, like bites all along his skin and over his eyes.

The wall of Aether churned and roiled ahead of him; Sable’s pilots had turned the craft parallel to it. For long moments he stared in awe, unable to look away, until he caught movement from the corner of his eyes.

Cinder was bent into a corner of the craft, his back convulsing as he retched.

“What’s happening?” Sable’s voice moved through the speakers. “I can’t see what’s happening.”

“We need a minute,” Perry snapped.

“We don’t have a minute! Get Aria up here right now,” Sable ordered.

“No! Just hold on!”

Cinder recovered and climbed to his feet. “Sorry . . . it’s so bumpy.”

Perry let out his breath, realizing Cinder was only seasick, not sick with fear. “That’s all right. I’m surprised I haven’t done it myself.”

Cinder smiled weakly. “Thanks,” he said. “For being here with me.”

Perry nodded, accepting his thanks. “Do you want me to stand next to you?”

Cinder shook his head. “I can do it.”

He moved to the bay doors, bracing a hand against the opening. Then he closed his eyes, the fear easing from his face. Webs of Aether spread beneath his skin, moving up his neck to his jaw, then higher over his scalp.

He looked relaxed. The world raged around him, but it didn’t feel that way to Perry. Standing behind him, watching him, Perry felt like the world was raging
for
Cinder.

Seconds passed. Perry began to wonder if Cinder had changed his mind.

“Peregrine,” came Sable’s voice, “make him—”

A blast of air pushed Perry backward. He slammed against the rear wall of the Hover, staggered.

Cinder hadn’t moved. He stayed planted by the doors.

Beyond him, in the distance, a gap formed in the barrier of Aether—a hollowed area that the currents flowed around, like river water past a rock.

The opening seemed almost insignificant in size. Twenty or thirty feet. Not big enough to fit even the smaller Dragonwings, to say nothing of the larger Hovers.

But through it, Perry could see what lay beyond the wall clearly: ocean, sitting beneath sunlight. That golden color that he’d glimpsed through the sheets of Aether was even warmer. And he saw sky. Endless, clear blue sky.

“What’s he waiting for? That’s not enough!” Sable yelled.

There was no point in talking to Cinder now. Perry had seen him like this. He was in another place. Lost to his surroundings.

“Peregrine!” Sable yelled.

As the seconds passed, relief moved through Perry. Maybe they wouldn’t make the crossing, but Cinder would live.

Horror followed quickly. What would they do now? Forge ahead through the barrier, and hope they made it through? The alternative, turning back to the cave, sounded worse. They couldn’t go back.

Cinder turned, fixing a blazing stare on him, and Perry understood.

What Cinder had just done was only the beginning. A test, to see what this would cost him. Looking into his eyes, Perry knew the answer.

Cinder turned back to the Aether.

Perry saw white, and then he saw nothing.

43

D
o you see them?” Brooke said. “They’re right there.” Aria nodded. Perry and Cinder’s Dragonwing was just a small point in front of the barrier of Aether, but she saw it.

An explosion of light blinded her.

Shouts erupted as the Hover dipped sharply. Aria flew into the person behind her. Blinking, fighting for her vision, she righted herself and lunged back to the window.

The barrier had a rift. A wide seam, like parted curtains. Through the barrier, the glittering ocean stretched out, as promising as anything she’d ever seen. She wanted to stare at it forever, but she tore her eyes away and searched for the Dragonwing.

“Where did they go, Brooke?” she asked. Perry’s Hover had disappeared.

“I’m looking,” Brooke said.

Roar was there too, searching. Grabbing her arm and steadying her when their Hover surged forward. Cursing softly when Sable’s voice came through the speakers again, announcing that they were going ahead with the crossing.

“Where are they?” Aria asked, her panic rising.

Brooke’s face paled, her quiet concentration changing suddenly to wide-eyed shock. “Water,” she said.

Aria’s gaze dropped to the ocean below—where Perry’s Hover tossed in ferocious white-capped waves.

44