Perry held her against him. “I missed you,” he whispered in her ear. He couldn’t hold her close enough. “I should never have let you go. I missed you so much.”

Words tumbled out of him. He said a dozen things he hadn’t meant to say, until she drew back and smiled up at him. Then he couldn’t speak at all. He took in the arch of her slender eyebrows, black like her hair, and the cleverness in her gray eyes. Fair and finely made, she was beautiful. Even more than he remembered.

“You’re here,” she said. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come.”

“I left as soon as—”

Before he could finish, her arms closed around his neck and they were kissing—a clumsy, hasty kiss. They were both breathing too hard. Smiling too much. Perry wanted to slow down and savor everything, but he couldn’t find a scrap of patience. He wasn’t sure if he started laughing first or if she did.

“I can do much better than that,” he said, just as she said, “You’re taller. I swear you’ve grown.”

“Taller?” he said. “I hope not.”

“You are,” she said. She studied his face like she wanted to know everything about him. She nearly already did. During their time together, he’d told her things he’d never said to anyone. Aria’s smile faded as her gaze stopped at the chain around his neck. “I heard what happened.” She reached up, and the weight at his collarbone lifted. “You’re a Blood Lord now.” She spoke softly, more to herself than to him. “This is … It’s stunning.”

He peered down, watching her fingers run over the silver links. “It’s heavy,” he said. This was the best moment he’d had since he’d taken the chain months ago.

Aria met his eyes, her temper cooling. “I’m sorry about Vale.”

Perry looked across the shadowed woods and swallowed through the sudden tightness in his throat. The memory of his brother’s death kept him awake nights. Sometimes, when he was alone, it kept him from breathing. Gently he took Aria’s hand from the chain and slipped his fingers through hers.

“Later,” he said. They had months of catching up to do. He wanted to talk to her about her mother. Had wanted to comfort her since he’d heard the news from Roar. But not now, when he’d just gotten her back. “Later … all right?”

She nodded, her eyes warm with understanding. “Later.” She turned his hand to see the scars Cinder had given him. Pale and thick as trails of wax, they made a web from his knuckles to his wrist. “Does this still bother you?” she asked, tracing the scars with her fingers.