“You’re not seeing what’s right in front of you! Vale ruins everything.” He’s even ruining my friendships, I realize. Perry and I don’t fight like this. In a dozen years, we’ve barely ever argued. “What makes you think he won’t come after you next?”

Perry stills. “Careful, Roar.”

Liv comes around a thicket. She looks from me to Perry. “Well done, you two. This is just what we need,” she says as she walks past.

That night as we’re gathered around the campfire, Wylan complains about his tired feet and his tired eyes. A steady stream of nonsense continues to pour from his mouth as we eat and then watch the fire burn low.

“It should take us around two weeks to get to the Horns,” he says. He tips his chin, gesturing to Liv, who’s fallen asleep with her head resting on my lap. “Guess your days of doing that are numbered.”

“I guess they are,” I say. I’ve been running my fingers through her hair, watching the way the firelight turns it to gold and copper and bronze. Though she might not feel it anymore, I can’t bring myself to stop. She’s been angry with me all afternoon. Perry has been too. We haven’t spoken since our argument.

“Never thought I’d see you and her split up,” Wylan continues.

I take my bottom lip between my teeth and look up, holding back my first reply. “Neither did I.” Through a web of tree branches, I see the Aether running in flowing sheets. We don’t have to worry about storms since it’s spring, but tomorrow we’ll be exposed to another danger when we leave Tide land. Outside the tribe territories, every day is a fight for survival. The borderlands test even the strongest.

Wylan turns his attention to Perry, who’s sitting across the fire staring into the flames. “What about you?”

“What about me, Wylan?” Perry answers without looking up.

“Scires are in demand, though I have no idea why. You think Vale’s gonna sell you off like your sister?”

“I don’t know what Vale’s plans are,” Perry says, lifting his eyes.

I know he’s thinking the same thing I am: Wylan is like a skunk. Always foul-smelling, occasionally intolerably so. Tonight, apparently, we’re getting sprayed.

Wylan props his elbows on his knees and scratches the black bristle on his chin. “Well, you can’t stay with the Tides much longer, the way the two of you have been locking horns. You’re gonna have to find a match somewhere else, or disperse and spend the rest of your life in the borderlands—which wouldn’t be long.”

Perry crosses his arms. “You’ve given this some thought.”