He looked back, still walking, and pressed a hand to his heart.

In the cockpit, Soren had put on his Smarteye.

“I brought it out of Reverie,” he said. “Thought it might come in handy.”

She leaned against the threshold and pursed her lips, disliking his choice of words. If something handy was useful, what did that mean for her, with her lame hand?

Soren mistook her expression, thinking she objected to his use of the Smarteye. “I don’t need it or anything. But I can work ten times faster with it.”

“I know,” she said, dropping into the other seat. “It’s fine. Use whatever you have to.”

Aria watched him for a while. Soren alternated between periods of inward focus when he was working through the Smarteye and bursts of frantic swiping at the commands on the Belswan’s controls. He was completely different when he had a task in front of him, a puzzle to solve.

She stared through the windshield at the trees tossing back and forth as anxiety began to build inside her. There were dangers in those woods. Bands of violent drifters. Aether storms that struck suddenly. She couldn’t get the image of Perry with his hand over his heart out of her mind.

Restless, she left the cockpit and rummaged in the rear storage room for field meals—prepackaged rations. Aria took spaghetti for herself and Jupiter, and tossed a meat loaf pack to Soren.

Then she sat at the top of the ramp, where she’d be able to see Perry, Roar, and Brooke when they returned. The trees swayed and creaked as the wind rose.

“These woods look so strange,” Jupiter said, joining her.

“That’s because they’re real.”

Jupiter flicked his head to the side, tossed his shaggy hair out of his face. “Right . . . that makes sense.”

As they fell into silence, she found herself straining to see into the darkened woods. Why hadn’t they come back yet?

She ate slowly, though her stomach rumbled. The pain in her arm had intensified, leaving her a little nauseous, and eating with her left hand took longer. The food, which only tasted slightly better than dirt, didn’t help matters.

Jupiter finished before she did and found two twigs to use as drumsticks. “So, are you still singing?” he asked as he tapped a rhythm against the ramp.

“Not very much. I’ve been a little preoccupied.”

Aria recognized the beat of the song “Winged Hearts Collide”—Roar’s favorite by the Tilted Green Bottles—but she had no urge to sing. The metallic clatter rattled in her ears. She felt like those twigs were banging against her brain, and now she couldn’t stop thinking about Roar and worrying about him.

“That’s too bad. Your voice is the best.”

“Thanks, Jup.”