She wanted to believe him, but they had to be smart. As a new leader, he needed his tribe behind him. But she couldn’t deny that being Marked would improve her chances of finding the Still Blue, to say nothing of the advantage Perry would provide on her journey to Rim. He was a hunter, a warrior. A survivor. More at ease in the borderlands than anyone she knew. All good reasons to go to the Tides for a few weeks before searching for the Still Blue. She and Perry would get everything they wanted if they just showed a little caution.

Perry’s guards were closing in, their footsteps growing louder by the second. Aria stood on her toes, resting her hands on his chest. “This is the best way—the safest,” she whispered. “Trust me.”

She pressed her lips quickly to his, but it wasn’t close to being enough. She took his face between her hands, feeling the soft scruff she’d missed, and kissed him again firmly, fiercely, before she backed away.

When Reef and two other men appeared, she and Perry stood several paces apart—the distance between strangers.

3

PEREGRINE

Two days later, Perry came through a stand of oaks and the Tide compound appeared, crowning the top of a slope with the thickly clouded sky at its back. Fields rolled out on either side of the dirt road, stretching to the hills that framed the valley.

Growing up, he’d imagined being Blood Lord plenty of times, but nothing compared with the feeling he had now. This was the first time he’d come home to his territory. Earth to sky and every person, tree, and rock in between belonged to him.

Aria appeared at his side. “Is that the compound?”

Perry shifted the bow and quiver on his back, covering his surprise. On their return, she’d paid him no more attention than she had Reef, who wouldn’t look at her, or Gren and Twig, who couldn’t stop staring. They’d slept across the fire from each other at night, and had hardly spoken during the days. When they had spoken, their exchanges had felt brief and cold. He hated pretending around her, but if it helped her feel comfortable coming back with him, he’d go along with it. For now.

“Right there,” he said, nodding. Rain had threatened all day, and now a light drizzle began to fall. He wished the clouds would part to show the sun or the Aether—any light at all—but the sky had been overcast for days. “My father had it built in a circle—easier to defend. We have wooden walls that draw closed between the houses during raids. The highest structure … See the roof over there?” He pointed. “That’s the cookhouse. The heart of the tribe.”