“Maybe there were frogs in the soup tonight,” said Gren.

Hyde grunted. “Frogs taste better than that tripe.”

Twig cleared his throat. “You know I almost did eat a live frog once,” he said.

“Twig, you look like a frog. You have froggy eyes.”

“Show us how high you can jump, Twig.”

“Shut up and let him croak the story.”

The story itself wasn’t much. As a boy, Twig had been on the brink of kissing a frog, on a dare from his brother, when it slipped through his fingers and jumped into his mouth. It was the wrong story for Twig to tell. At twenty-three, he had yet to kiss a girl, and the Six knew it, as they knew nearly everything about one another. A massacre followed, as they took shots at Twig, saying things like maybe he was worried that after the frog, a girl would be a letdown, and that they supported his quest to find a prince.

Perry listened, smiling at the better jabs, feeling more himself than he had in the past two days. Eventually it grew quiet again, except for the rhythm of a few snores. He looked around him. The rain had stopped. Some slept. Others breathed steadily, focused on the night. No one spoke, but Perry heard them clearly. He understood why they’d been shadowing him and why they sat with him now, staying when they didn’t have to.

Given any choice, they wouldn’t leave. They’d stand by him.

18

ARIA

We made better pace today.” Aria wrung her hair out, scooting closer to the fire. Spring had come in force, with days of steady rain. They’d left the Tides three days ago, and her strength had finally returned. “Don’t you think we made up some ground?”

Roar lay against his satchel, his legs crossed at the ankle, his foot tapping to a beat she couldn’t hear. “We did.”

“Good fire, too. We got lucky to find dry wood.”

Roar looked over, raising an eyebrow. She realized she’d been staring not at him, but through him.

“You know what’s worse than mute Aria? Small-talking Aria.”

She picked up a stick and jabbed at the fire. “I’m just sparing you.”

They had traveled in near silence most of the day, despite Roar’s attempts at conversation. He wanted to discuss their plan for when they reached the Horns. How would they discover information about the Still Blue? How would they negotiate for Liv’s return? But Aria hadn’t wanted to discuss anything. She’d needed to stay focused on moving forward. On pushing harder when she felt the urge to turn back. And speaking might get her speaking.

She worried about Talon. She missed Perry. There was nothing she could do about either except race to the Horns. Now, feeling a little guilty over her silence, she was trying—lamely, it was true—to make up for it.