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.”