“I’m serious. It’s as tough as leather.” Roar looked across the table. “Isn’t it true, Old Will?” he said to a grizzled man with a shockingly white beard.

Though Aria had been on the outside for months, she still marveled at wrinkles and scars and signs of age. She’d thought them disgusting once. Now the man’s leathery face almost made her smile. Bodies on the outside wore experiences like souvenirs.

Willow, the girl Aria had met earlier, sat beside him. Aria felt a weight settle on her boot and looked down to see Flea.

“Grandpa, Roar asked you something,” Willow said.

The older man cocked his ear toward Roar. “What was that, pretty?”

Roar raised his voice in answer. “I was telling Aria here not to eat the haddock.”

Old Will studied her, his lips pursed in a sour expression. Aria’s cheeks warmed as she waited for his reaction. It was one thing to hear whispers, but another to be shunned to her face.

“I’m seventy,” he said finally. “Seventy years old and going strong.”

“Old Will isn’t an Aud,” Roar whispered.

“I got that, thanks. Did he just call you pretty?”

Roar nodded, chewing. “Can you blame him?”

Her eyes moved over his even features. “No. I really can’t,” she said, though pretty didn’t quite fit Roar’s dark looks.

“So you’re getting Markings,” he said. “How about I vouch for you?”

“I thought Perry—Peregrine was going to?” Aria said.

“Perry will warrant them, and he’ll preside over the ceremony, but that’s only one part of it. The part only a Blood Lord can do.”

The stout woman on Roar’s opposite side leaned forward. “Someone with your same Sense needs to take an oath swearing that your hearing is true. If you’re an Aud, only another Aud can do that.”

Aria smiled, noting the emphasis the woman placed on the word if. “I am an Aud, so that’ll be the case.”

The woman studied her with eyes the color of honey. She seemed to decide something, because the grim set of her mouth softened. “I’m Molly.”

“Molly is our healer, and Bear’s wife,” Roar said. “Much fiercer than the big man, though, aren’t you, Molly?” He turned back to Aria. “So it should be me doing the vouching, don’t you think? I’m perfect for it. I’ve taught you everything.”

Aria shook her head, trying not to smile. Truly, Roar was the perfect choice. He had taught her all she knew about sounds—and knives. “Everything except modesty.”

He made a face. “Who needs that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you do, pretty.”

“Nonsense,” he said, and tucked back into his food.