After he left, she tried to make herself comfortable as the night deepened. When the wind blew the right way, and when the waves were gentle enough, she heard Sable’s voice drift into the Hover, mingling with the campfire smoke.

He spoke with his soldiers about plans for the coming weeks. Priorities.

Shelter. Food and water. Control of the Tides.

She tried to focus. She might learn something helpful. But the words blew right through her mind; she couldn’t hold on to anything.

Soon she grew cold and began to shiver. More likely, she realized, shock was what shook her uncontrollably. The temperature had hardly dropped since sunset, and she only felt cool when a breeze carried inside. She curled up on her side, but that didn’t help. Eventually, her captors noticed.

“I’ll get her a blanket,” one of the men said. She watched him reach into the storage lockers. She watched him return.

“Is Sable going to cut your throat open for giving me this?” she asked as he stood over her.

The man startled, surprised to hear her speak. Then he dropped the blanket on her. “You’re welcome,” he said gruffly, but she saw fear flicker in his eyes. Sable’s own men were terrified of him.

As he left, returning to his post by the ramp, the strangest sensation swept over her, like she wasn’t just missing Perry, aching for him, bleeding for him. She was grieving for the loss of herself. This was changing her. She would never be the same.

At some point, her father arrived.

Loran came carrying a bowl of soup. He moved with effortless grace, smooth and swift and without spilling. He had excellent balance, like all Auds. Like her. Whether she admitted it to herself or not, a connection existed between them.

Aria met his eyes, and saw that connection in his gaze. The openness and understanding in his eyes rocked her. She suddenly found herself blinking back tears.

She would not cry. If she did, then it would be real, and none of this could be real.

Not Perry’s death, or Sable’s control of everything, or her solitary imprisonment here in a Hover.

Loran set the bowl down, sending the men who’d been guarding her away. He listened for a while, staring outside, no doubt ensuring they had privacy before he spoke. Or maybe giving her time to regain her composure. She had to fight for it, drawing a few breaths against the ache in her chest, and focusing on the sounds of the night until the raw feeling in her throat receded.

It had grown quiet and still. No trace of Sable or his advisers anymore. Not even a breeze. Time felt as though it had stopped, until Loran turned to her and spoke.