Perry drew the blade across his palm, slicing his skin. Making a fist over the small copper pot on the table, he let a few drops of his blood fall.
“On my blood as Lord of the Tides, I recognize you as an Audile and warrant that you should be Marked.”
Perry didn’t recognize the sound of his own voice—sure and formal—or the words he spoke, which had always belonged to Vale or his father. He lifted his gaze and scanned the crowded hall. Against Reef’s advice, he’d ordered all the regular trappings of a Marking Ceremony. Incense at each table put off fragrant cedar smoke to represent Scires. Torches and candles blazed, washing the cookhouse in light to honor the Seers. For the Auds, drummers beat a steady rhythm at the far end. Unlike last night’s cold and wet and fear, now the hall was filled with the comfort of tradition. He’d been right to do this. The Tides needed it as much as he and Aria did.
Aria stood just a few paces in front of him. She’d pulled her black hair up, and her neck looked slender and delicate. Her cheeks were flushed pink, whether from nerves or the heat of the hall, Perry wasn’t sure.
Did she think this ritual was savage? Did she want Markings, or were they just a necessity to get the location of the Still Blue? He hadn’t had the chance to ask earlier, and now it was too late. He couldn’t tell how she felt. With the cedar and smoke and hundreds of people, her scent was lost to him.
Perry handed the knife to Roar, who gave the blade a quick, showy twirl before he swore his own oath, recognizing Aria as an Audile. As one of his own. “May sounds guide you home,” he finished, adding his blood to the pot.
The tattoo ink would be added next. When Aria received her Markings, she’d receive part of him and Roar as well, their blood sealing their promises to shelter and protect her should she ever be in need. The ceremony would end with him and Roar making that oath to her. Perry couldn’t wait. He already felt that way, and he wanted her to know.
“Bear will do the Markings now,” he said. For years it had been Mila’s role. His sister-in-law had done the falcon on his back and both of his Markings—Scire and Seer. Molly was his next choice, but her hands were bothering her. The only other person left who’d ever done them was Bear.
Perry stood a moment longer, fighting the urge to kiss Aria’s cheek. Much as he wanted to be open about them to the tribe, a show of his feelings seemed wrong now. With a final glance at the flawless skin along her arms, he headed for the head table at the rear of the hall. The Markings would take hours, and he didn’t want to hover. Getting inked wasn’t terrible, but he knew any discomfort she felt would pain him.
He took Vale’s old seat at the head table on a platform at the end of the hall. With Roar and Cinder at his sides and the Six filling in around them, he felt too much like the Blood Lord his brother had been, one for ceremony and appearances. But tonight was for ceremony.
Across the table, a stringy-haired man smiled, showing more gaps than teeth. “Well, well … what a sight you are, Peregrine.”
The trader, who’d arrived earlier in the afternoon, came around every spring selling trinkets. Coins, spoons, rings, and bangles hung from his necklaces and coat, messy as seaweed. They had to weigh as much as he did. But the goods were just a cover for his real trade—gossip.
Perry nodded. “Shade.” With the Marking underway and time to kill, this was a good opportunity to learn news before he left with Aria tomorrow morning.
“You’ve grown into such a shining young lord,” Shade said. He lingered over the word, drawing the sound from it like he was sucking marrow from a bone. From the corner of his eye, Perry caught the grin that spread across Roar’s face. Perry was already looking forward to hearing his best friend’s imitation.
“How much you resemble your brother and your father,” Shade continued. “He was a great man, Jodan.”
Perry shook his head. His father, a great man? Maybe to some. Maybe in some ways.
He glanced toward the hearth. Bear sat at a table with Aria. With a piece of willow charcoal, he drew the Audile’s curving lines on her bicep, preparing to ink them into her skin. Aria stared at the fire, her gaze distant. Perry exhaled through his teeth, not sure why he was worried. He’d seen Markings done a dozen times.
“On with it, Shade,” he said. “Let’s have your news.”
“It seems patience is missing from your formidable list of virtues,” Shade said.
“True,” Perry said. “I lack restraint as well.”
A smile spread over the gossipmonger’s face. One of his front teeth sat sideways, like an open door. “So I understand. You know, I admire you tremendously, and I’m not alone. News of your challenge has spread far and wide. How very difficult it must have been to spill your brother’s blood. Few men have the strength to commit such a merciless—pardon me—such a selfless act. All done for your nephew, I heard. A dear child, Talon. Dear, dear boy. Word says you took down a band of sixty Croven as well. Such a young lord, and yet you’re making quite a mark, Peregrine of the Tides.”
Perry had the urge to cuff him, but Reef moved first, setting his foot on the bench next to Shade with a solid thunk. He leaned over the ratty man. “I could speed this up.”
Shade winced, his gaze traveling to Reef’s scar. “No—no need. Forgive me. I meant no offense. Your time must be so precious, especially with the storm last night. You’re not the only one seeing the Aether this late, you know. The southern territories are suffering. Fires burn everywhere, and the borderlands are crawling with dispersed. The Rose and Night tribes were both forced from their compounds. Word says they’ve joined together and gone in search of a stronghold.”
Perry looked to Reef, who nodded, their thoughts aligning. The Rose and the Night were two of the largest tribes anywhere, each numbering in the thousands. The Tides barely reached four hundred in number, and that included children. Infants. Elderly. Perry had been preparing the Tides for raids, but against those odds, they wouldn’t have a chance.
He drew an unsatisfying breath, warm and heavy with scents. This far back in the hall, the air festered. “Any sign where they’re going?”
“No.” Shade smiled. “No sign of that.”
Perry looked over the sea of heads, finding Aria again. Bear took a thin copper rod from the wooden box with the Marking supplies. He held it over a candle, heating the fine tip. In moments he would jab it into Aria’s skin to form her Marking. Used the wrong way, the instrument could be lethal. Perry shook his head, pushing away the thought.
“What else?” he asked. Nausea had begun a steady creep up his throat, and a bead of sweat ran down his spine. “What of the Still Blue?”
“Ahh … much talk of the Blue out there, Peregrine. Tribes are striking out in search of it. Some going south, across the Shield Valley. Some east, beyond Mount Arrow. The Quince tribe took to the north, beyond the Horns, and came back with nothing more than empty stomachs. Lots of talk, see, but none of it sticks.”
“I hear Sable knows where it is,” Perry said.
Shade shrank back, his clothes jingling. “He says so, yes, but I’m no Scire, like you are, Peregrine. I can’t know if he speaks the truth. If he does know, he’s not telling a soul about it. Word says there’s a boy who can control the Aether—you might want to know that. Such a child would be worth something in a time like this.”
Perry kept still despite the jolt to his pulse. How much did Shade know? From the corner of his eye, he saw Cinder pull his hat down. “That’s not possible.”
“Yes, well … it is hard to believe.” Shade seemed disappointed to not have drawn any interest, because his next bit of information came readily. “The thaw came early to the north this spring. The pass to Rim is clear. You can go see Olivia now.”
Liv. Perry was caught off guard by the mention of his sister. “She didn’t go to the Horns. She never made it there.”
Shade lifted his eyebrows. “Didn’t she?”
Perry froze. “What do you know about Liv?”
“More than you, it seems.” Shade smiled. He seemed pleased to have information to bargain with now. But he hadn’t counted on Roar.
Perry turned in time to see his friend leap over the table in a dark blur. There was a sudden loud tumble and a rattling of spoons and rings and trinkets. Reef and Gren drew their knives, and then everything stopped. Perry climbed over the table to see Roar pinning Shade.
“Where is she?” Roar hissed, pressing his blade to Shade’s throat.
“She went to the Horns. That’s all I know!” Shade looked at Perry, terrified. “Tell him, Scire! It’s the truth. I wouldn’t lie to you.”
The hall grew quiet as all eyes turned to the commotion. Perry’s legs felt unsteady as he climbed down. He brought Roar to his feet and caught his friend’s temper, a searing scarlet color.
“Walk.” He pushed Roar toward the door. Air. They both needed air before they dealt with Shade. He didn’t need bloodshed tonight.
“Sable found her.” Roar’s eyes darted everywhere as Perry shepherded him across the hall. “He had to have. The bastard tracked her down and hauled her back. I have to go there. I need—”
“Outside, Roar.”
They left a wake of questioning stares as they made their way across the hall. Perry focused on the door, imagining the cool night air outside.
Roar stopped and turned so abruptly that Perry almost crashed into him. “Perry … look.”
He followed Roar’s gaze to Aria. Bear drove the rod into her arm in quick, short stabs, Marking her with the ink. Aria was sweating, and her hair clung to her neck. She looked over, meeting his eyes. Something was wrong.
He was in front of her in a heartbeat. Seeing him, Bear startled and yanked the rod back. A line of blood dribbled down Aria’s arm. Too much blood. Far too much. Part of the Marking was done, the flowing lines of the Aud tattoo reaching halfway across her bicep. The skin around the inked skin was red and swollen.
“What is this?” Perry demanded.
“She has thin skin,” Bear said defensively. “I’m doing it the way I know.”
Aria’s face was ghostly pale, and she was slumping. “I can handle it,” she said weakly. She wouldn’t look at him. She kept her gaze on the fire.
Perry’s eyes locked on the inkpot just as he smelled something off. He picked up the small copper bowl and brought it to his nose. He inhaled. Beneath the ink he caught a musty, mousy odor.
Hemlock.
For an instant, his mind couldn’t fit the information together. Then it hit him.
Poison.
The ink was poisoned.
The copper pot clacked against the hearth before he realized he’d thrown it. Ink splattered across the mantel, the wall, the floor.
“What did you do?” Perry yelled. The drums stopped. Everything stopped.
Bear’s eyes darted from the rod to Aria’s arm. “What do you mean?”
Aria pitched forward. Perry dropped to his knees, catching her just before she toppled off the bench. Her skin burned beneath his hands, and her entire weight lay against him, heavy and limp. This couldn’t be happening. He didn’t know what to do. Couldn’t make a decision. Nausea and fear coursed through his body, freezing him to the spot.
He picked her up, pulling her into his arms. Next thing he knew, he was in his house. He barreled into Vale’s room and set her on the bed. Then he yanked his belt off, his knife falling to the floor with a clunk. Perry tied the belt above her bicep, cinching it tight. He had to stop the poison from flowing to her heart.
Then he took her face in his hands. “Aria?” Her pupils were so dilated that he could hardly see the gray of her irises.
“I can’t see you, Perry,” she murmured.
“I’m right here. Right beside you.” He knelt by the bed and took her hand. If he held on tight enough, she’d be fine. She had to be. “You’re going to be all right.”
Roar appeared, setting a lamp on the bedside table. “Molly’s on her way. She’s getting what she needs.”
Perry stared at Aria’s arm. The veins around her Marking looked corded and deep purple. With every second that passed, her face grew paler. He ran a shaking hand over her forehead and thought of the medical facility at Marron’s. He had nothing here. Never in his life had he felt primitive until now.
“Perry,” she breathed.
He squeezed her hand. “Right here, Aria. I’m not going anywhere. I’m right—”
Her eyes drifted closed, and he was plunged deep underwater again, in the cold darkness, where there was no up. No air to draw into his lungs.
“She’s still breathing,” Roar said behind him. “I hear her. She’s just unconscious.”
Molly arrived, carrying a jar with a chalky white paste used for poison rashes.
“That won’t work,” Perry snapped. “It’s inside her skin.”
“I know,” Molly said calmly. “I hadn’t seen the wound yet.”
“What do we do? Should I cut the skin off?” The words had hardly left Perry when his stomach seized.
Roar’s hand came down to his knife. “I can do it, Perry.”
He looked at Roar, who was blinking fast, ashen, and couldn’t believe they were talking about cutting into Aria’s arm.
“That won’t help,” Molly said. “It’s already in her bloodstream.” She set another glass jar on the nightstand. Leeches cut swiftly through the water, agitated and eager. “These might, if they take to the spoiled blood.”
He fought off another wave of nausea. A belt around her arm. Leeches. Was this the best he could do for her? “Do it. Try them.”
Molly plucked a writhing leech from the jar and placed it over Aria’s Marking. When it latched onto her skin, Roar let out a loud exhale, but Perry still couldn’t breathe. Molly took another leech from the jar, and on it went, every second an eternity, until six leeches clung from Aria’s arm. On perfect skin he’d run his fingers across just hours ago.
Perry shifted his grip on her hand, threading their fingers together. Aria’s hand tightened, just a faint twitch before it relaxed again. Wherever she was in the unconscious, she was telling him she’d fight.
He watched the leeches grow dark purple, filling with blood. They had to be working. They had to be drawing the poison out of her. Then he couldn’t watch anymore. He put his head down on the bed, his knees aching from kneeling, and felt the passing of time in snatches. From the room outside, Bear’s deep voice, swearing his innocence. Then Cinder, pleading desperately with Reef to let him in. Silence. Then Molly shifting nearby, pulling the blanket over Aria and resting her hand briefly on his head. And silence again.
Finally, Perry looked up. Though Aria still hadn’t stirred, he sensed her returning. He stood, swaying in place, his legs stiff. Relief coursed through him, blurring his eyes, but it was overshadowed quickly.
He looked at Roar, who held his knife by the blade.
“Go,” Roar said, handing it over. “I’ll stay with her.”
Perry took it and strode to the cookhouse.