Roar’s voice. Soren’s face. Soren’s hands wrapped around her.

Aria struggled against his grip. She didn’t know what to be afraid of. She had no idea what was real, or why her blood felt like boiling water in her veins. She fell back against the farming rows, kicking, fighting, as her vision turned gray and then black.

13

PEREGRINE

Perry entered the cookhouse and found Wylan standing on a table, facing a small crowd. It was late—only a few stray lamps were lit across the shadowed hall—and most of the tribe had gone to their homes for the night.

“He’s a hothead; that’s all he’s ever been,” Wylan said. “He’s with the Dweller. He was keeping that from us. Now he says he’s going north for the Still Blue, but don’t believe that, either. I wouldn’t be surprised if he never comes back!”

“I’m back,” Perry said. He felt cold. Completely focused. As sharp as the knife in his hand.

Wylan whirled and nearly fell off the table. Around Perry, people gasped, their eyes dropping to the blade at his side.

Bear put up his hands. “I had no idea, Perry. I didn’t. I would never do—”

“I know.” Bear’s temper proved his innocence. He’d been just as shocked as Perry had been earlier. Perry inhaled deeply, slashes of blue edging his vision. “Who was it?” He searched the faces around him.

No one answered.

“Do you think silence will protect you?” He walked past Rowan and Old Will, moving through the crowd, pumping air into his lungs. Inhaling.

Sifting.

Searching.

“Do you have any idea how loud guilt is to me?”

He caught it: the rancid reek of fear. He grabbed the scent like a line and followed it. The tribe recoiled, terrified, stumbling into benches and tables. All except Gray, who stood fixed as a tree. Perry’s vision tunneled, focusing only on him. On the farmer, who shook his head, his face pulled taut with terror.

“She’s a Mole! She’s not even one of us! She has no right to be Marked!”

Perry lunged, slamming into Gray. They fell together, knocking into people and crashing into the floor. Someone kicked his hand, and the knife tore from his fingers. Hands fell on his shoulders, but they didn’t stop him. He was pure intent. Pure focused power—all the fear inside him releasing through his fist

one—

two—

three times before Reef and Bear wrenched him away. Perry fought his way back, cursing, struggling. He’d heard bones crack, but it wasn’t enough. Not enough, because Gray was still alive. Still moving on the floor.

Bear lifted him off his feet, throwing him backward. “Stop! He’s got sons.”

Perry crashed into a table. Reef appeared in front of him, jamming a forearm into his neck, stunning him. “Look at me, Peregrine!”