“I’ll go on the mission,” Aria said. “I already planned to. And you’re right. I am hurt. But I’m not afraid to admit it.”

Then she was gone, taking all the air and light in the cavern with her.

5. Aria

5

ARIA

Aria returned to the Dweller cavern.

Work would help her sort through her anger and confusion. It would help her forget the sound of Perry and Roar shouting at each other. Maybe, if she busied herself enough, she’d even get the words You vanished on me, Aria out of her head.

Molly moved amid the sickly bundles that stretched back into the darkness. Some of the Dwellers seemed to be stirring now, and a few of the Tides were helping Molly tend to them. Blond hair in the distance caught her attention. She spotted Brooke carrying a jug of water from one person to another.

Aria knelt by Molly. “What’s she doing here?”

Molly drew a blanket over a young girl. “Ah,” she said, looking up and seeing Brooke. “You two didn’t get off to a good start, did you?”

“No . . . but only one of us is responsible for that.”

Molly pursed her lips. “She knows she treated you poorly, and she’s grateful to you for bringing Clara back. This is her way of showing it.”

Brooke must have felt their attention because she looked over, her blue eyes moving from Aria to Molly. Aria saw no apology in them. No gratitude.

“Interesting way of showing it.”

“She is trying,” Molly said. “And she’s a good girl. She’s just had a tough stretch.”

Aria shook her head. Weren’t they all having a tough stretch?

She settled to work, delivering water and medicines to the Dwellers who had stirred. She knew every one of them, but some better than others. Briefly she spoke with a friend of her mother’s, aching for Lumina, and then checked on Rune, Jupiter, and Caleb. Her friends were still barely conscious, but just being near them felt good, nourishing a part of her that had been dormant for months.

Gradually, Perry and Roar faded from her thoughts. Even the pain in her arm did. She immersed herself in work until she heard a pair of familiar voices.

“Can I get some water?” Soren asked. He was sitting up and looked healthy enough to get his own water, but the meeting earlier had drained the color from his face.

Brooke knelt and shoved the jug at him.

“Thanks,” Soren said. He took a slow drink, his gaze never leaving Brooke. Then he grinned and handed the water back. “You know, you’re really pretty for a Savage.”

“Three days ago you vomited all over my sleeve, Dweller. That wasn’t pretty.” Brooke stood, moving to the next patient.