Brooke: An Under the Never Sky Story Read online

  Hayden was right. This sort of heat between us is better for me right now.

  Hayden’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “What are you thinking?”

  I look at him and say the first thing that comes to mind. “You have perfect lips.”

  I expect him to laugh or make some kind of comeback. But he just kisses my forehead and tucks me back into the crook of his arm. We sit and watch the burning hills, just doing that. Nothing more.

  And I am content.

  9

  It’s deep into the night when I hear a shout. It pierces the night quiet, instantly sending my pulse to a gallop.

  Hayden has nodded off beside me, but he wakes with a small jolt. I grip his forearm to keep him from making any sudden movement that might give away our position.

  “What was that?” he whispers. His eyes pan across the rolling land below us, and he blinks a few times to shake off sleep.

  “A man’s voice. Close.” I don’t hear it anymore. Now I only hear the creak of branches as they sway with a breeze.

  We come to our feet slowly, forcing steadiness out of our tired, stiff limbs. There could be Auds nearby, so we are careful to move in silence as we find our bows.

  The sky has calmed considerably since the show of funnels and the smoke hours ago. The Aether flows are smoother, almost veil thin. They are as calm as I’ve seen them in days. We have gone from a tempest to a gentle, low tide. Safer for us, but without a thick concentration of Aether above us, we’ve lost much of our illumination. The night has grown dim. A murky rolling blue, like we’ve swum to the bottom of the sea.

  My range of vision has decreased to only two hundred yards. Wearing horse blinders could not feel worse.

  “We should move off this hill,” I say. “We won’t know what’s going on unless we get closer.” My idea is borderline idiotic. We’re in a secure position, and leaving it for unknown danger would be insane. But I have never been one to wait around for things to happen. I’m confident that Hayden will steer us right, though.

  “Good idea,” he says. “Let’s go.”

  No voice of reason, then. My fingers tighten around my bow.

  As we descend the hill, my heart thuds so powerfully in my chest that I wonder if Hayden can hear it.

  We walk half a mile before we see them. A group of people emerges from the mottled darkness.

  I count forty.

  They stand in a wooded fold between two hills. I search for Wylan but only see strangers. I recognize the dry creek bed, though. The trees grow thick there, because the water still runs beneath the ground. Somewhere, miles to the west, is the spot where Hyde and I were posted last night. But tonight I am farther out, on the edge of Tide land.

  Then I hear him.

  “Listen up!” Wylan snaps. He jumps onto a boulder, appearing above the crowd. “We’ll head north and approach along that ridge. Expect to be challenged by a pair of sentries.” He points into the darkness. “Two archers, within the first mile. Good fighters. But there are more of us, and we can’t expect to take this land and the food we need, land and food that are rightfully ours and that we deserve, without having to show some courage, can we?”

  There are a few grunts of agreement.

  Hayden’s eyes lock with mine, and I know we’re thinking the same thing.

  Reef and Gren are guarding the area these people plan to move through. They’re in danger.

  “Once we get past them,” Wylan continues, “we won’t run into any trouble until we reach the cave.”

  The cave.

  Clara.

  I yank an arrow from my quiver, nock it, and fire.

  It’s a wild action. Aggressive and possibly suicidal. But if I don’t do something, Gren and Reef could die. My tribe could be harmed, and my sister.

  My arrow spears a man through the thigh.

  I keep going, loosing another. Hayden joins me, and in moments screams of terror lift from Wylan’s group. They are visibly shocked and confused. We are firing on them from the rear—the borderlands, where they came from—and surely the direction they believed they could retreat if needed.

  But soon their own bows appear, and arrows slice past me. I can’t fire anymore without risking my life, so I kneel behind a rock outcrop and pray that my instincts are right.

  Gren is an Aud. He’d have heard the commotion Wylan’s group just made.

  Tell me he heard.

  It’s the only chance Hayden and I have of getting out of this alive.

  I look to my right. Hayden has taken cover behind a tree. When he sees me, he winks. There’s something a little reckless about him. He’s enjoying this. Like me.

  Wylan’s group is creeping toward us. I’m no Aud, but I can hear them approaching, their steps swishing through grass and crunching on twigs.

  It hits me then: my gamble failed. There’s been no sign of Gren or anyone else. I look at Hayden again. We’re going to have to make a run for it, and that won’t work either. Most likely I’ll get a few arrows in my back.

  I pull up to my feet and see Hayden do the same. No time to dwell on the situation. Just have to act.

  Hayden tips his chin, telling me to run first while he lays down a barrage of shots, giving me cover.

  But then I hear something new. Shouts behind me. Peering over the outcropping, I see Wylan’s group scattering. Arrows are sailing down at them from the west.

  Gren! He heard. He and Reef have positioned themselves opposite us, behind Wylan’s group.

  And better still, a volley of arrows flies from the south as well. Hyde and Straggler have joined in the fight too. Gren and Reef must have sent them a signal—or they’d seen the commotion themselves.

  Hayden lets out a growl of pure battle hunger and leaps into action. I grab my bow and set to work again, my heart swelling with what I know is a sure victory.

  We have hemmed in Wylan’s group. Thanks to the fires, Hayden and I landed in an advantageous position. While Hyde, Straggler, Reef, and Gren push the intruders out of Tide territory, Hayden and I have created a dam, prohibiting their retreat to the borderlands. We have trapped them.

  I focus on one target, loosing an arrow. It plunges into Wylan’s thigh. He buckles to his knees, clutching his leg. He looks up at me. “Shoot her!” he screams.

  The words die in his throat as my next arrow spears him through the stomach. He topples over. I move on to my next target, knowing that Wylan is finished.

  We could turn this into a slaughter if we wanted to, but we don’t.

  Reef’s whistle calls us off. I lower my bow and see that we showed restraint and mercy. We wounded quite a few, but their loss of life is minimal.

  “Go! Get off this land!” I yell.

  Then I watch as the survivors limp away.

  Wylan is not one of them. He lies motionless on the grass. I put him there, and I feel no regret for what I’ve done.

  He’ll never be a threat to the Tides again.

  10

  In the Battle Room, Reef and Hayden take turns explaining what happened.

  When they are finished, Perry’s green eyes narrow on me. “Why did you engage them?”

  I could give him one of several different answers. Gut feeling. Fear. Because I knew we could press our advantage. But instead I just say, “I wanted it to be over. And I knew we’d have to take some risks to keep him out for good.”

  “Thank you, Brooke. You did well.” He holds my eyes a moment longer, his direct gaze brimming with gratitude and respect. Something passes between us that feels solid and promising.

  I was wrong before. Perry and I don’t have an ending. We just have more beginnings.

  When the discussion turns to food rations and other matters that don’t concern me, I excuse myself.

  My impulse is to find Clara, but somehow my feet take me to the Dweller cavern.

  Molly comes over when she sees me. “Well done,” she coos, cupping my cheeks. “I heard all about it from Willow.”

  I went straight
to the Battle Room when I arrived. How Willow knows everything before everyone is a mystery to me.

  “Thanks,” I say to Molly. “Does that mean I get out of Dweller water duty today?”

  She purses her lips. “Well, I suppose since—”

  “I’m kidding, Molly.” Feeling strong and proud of myself, I pick up one of the jugs by the water barrel and fill it, deciding I’ll pitch in for a little while.

  Today the Dwellers are improving. I see glimpses of life returning to them. The regular rise and fall of their chests as they slumber. The twitching behind their eyelids that tells me they’re dreaming instead of floating in darkness.

  Soren is awake. He watches me for a few minutes before I finally kneel beside him.

  “I was waiting for you,” he rasps.

  “Why didn’t you call me over?” I say, giving him some water.

  “I don’t know your name.”

  He wants me to tell him, but for some reason I like keeping it from him. “Shame,” I say, putting the clay jug to his cracked lips. He takes five long sips. His increasing thirst is a good sign he’s recovering.

  “The water?” he says, nodding at the jug. “You don’t need it.”

  “I don’t need it?”

  “As an excuse. You’re using it so you can come talk to me.”

  I’m tempted to pour the rest on his head. “Really?” I say, forcing myself to look smitten. “I can come over to your side anytime?” I stand. “What about when I want to leave your side? Do I need an excuse then? Or permission?” I start walking backward. “Oh, look.” I glance at my feet. “It’s working!”

  He grins. “Your name!” He tries to raise his voice, but it comes out sounding more like a croak.

  “Bye, Soren!”

  I leave the cavern because I want him to wonder where I went. Also because I remember the reason I came here to begin with.

  I had forgotten that Aria was moved after her surgery. She’s been recovering in Perry’s tent. That’s where I head.

  I find her sleeping on a bed pad wide enough for two. No need to guess who she shares it with. The realization stings, but only faintly.

  The warrior in me is too strong today for me to feel weakness. And while I have not moved on, I am moving. I am trying. I am creating new beginnings.

  I kneel at her side and take a few seconds to let my pulse calm. Then I lean close to her and say what needs saying.

  “I told you before that you took him from me. . . . You didn’t. He was mine for a time, but now that’s past, and it’s all right. It would have happened with you or without you. But now he’s yours. He belongs to you, and I think he always will. And I hope you know how lucky that makes you. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I don’t hate you. You never deserved that. So . . . that’s all.”

  11

  That night, Clara sleeps next to me again.

  She doesn’t cry and my mother doesn’t cry either. I wake up feeling rested and cheered. It’s a feeling I recognize. It’s how I used to always be. Maybe we’re all adjusting to being reunited.

  “Take me outside, Brooke,” Clara pleads after a breakfast of boiled oats and a handful of dates.

  I can’t see why not. Wylan isn’t a threat anymore, and I won’t take her far. Just right to the cove outside. “Sure,” I say. “Let’s go.”

  Talon and Willow skip up as we pass the platform. Willow’s constant shadow, her mutt, Flea, prances up as well. When they learn where Clara and I are going, they ask to come along.

  “Fine,” I say. “Sure.” Nothing can spoil my mood. “Anyone else?”

  “Straggler!” chirps Willow. “You have to come!”

  “I’m busy, Willow,” he calls over.

  He’s on his back on the platform. It looks like we interrupted his nap.

  “You’re not busy!” Talon shouts. He and Willow scuttle over to Straggler and grab him by the arms. As I watch, they yank him off the platform and tow him over.

  I don’t know any adults as persuasive as children.

  A race begins before we have even emerged from the mouth of the cave. Willow darts across the beach, Flea barking as he lopes alongside her. Clara breaks into a run, kicking up sand behind her. She’s fast, but Talon is all heart and determination. I wonder who will win.

  I plop down to watch, their shrieks and hollers ringing in my ears. Willow trips first and tumbles onto the sand, and then Clara does. Talon throws himself down, I think, because everyone else has done it.

  The morning is fearsome—a storm is gathering strength above us—but I don’t care. The sound of my sister’s laughter is louder than the crash of the waves. How can this day ever be anything less than perfect?

  “Don’t feel like racing?” Straggler asks as he sits next to me on the sand.

  “Maybe later.” I look at him. “How about you?”

  “Nah.” Straggler shrugs. “I mean I would. But I twisted my ankle this morning and it’s a little sore.”

  “What happened?”

  “Oh . . .” He smiles. “It’s my birthday.”

  Like that explains everything. “For your birthday you got a twisted ankle?”

  “Yeah, it’s a family tradition. Whoever’s birthday it is gets pinned down first thing in the morning and roughed up a little. It’s something my brothers and I do to remember.”

  “Remember?” I ask.

  “Our father. When we were younger, he used to wake us up by tickling us. Eventually the whole lot of us got in on it, even our mother. You always knew you’d wake up pinned down and tickled to the point of crying when it was your birthday. Mom and Dad passed on, but we still do it. Every birthday. Except we changed it from tickling, you know, since we’re not little kids anymore.”

  “So you beat each other up.”

  “Yeah . . . not badly, though. You think it’s strange, don’t you?”

  I shake my head. Their tradition doesn’t bother me. In fact, I think it’s sweet. But I feel bad for Straggler. Hyde and Hayden are well over six feet—more than a head taller than Straggler, who hasn’t hit his growth spurt yet—and they’re strong. It seems like they have an unfair advantage, but Strag must be used to it. As the youngest and smallest, he’s the butt of everyone’s jokes, and he’s forever lagging behind, which earned him his nickname. A shame since his given name, Haven, is so beautiful.

  “How old are you today?” I ask.

  “Sixteen.” He grins proudly, like he’s automatically become a man. Then he glances away, and a giggle slips out of him that’s all boy. “My brothers said if I ever kissed you, they’d beat me unconscious.”

  Well. All right, then. “They told you?”

  “No. They’d never talk. It’s just I overheard them arguing. They were both saying you like them the most, and then the rest sort of came out.”

  “Is that so?” I shake my head. This was bound to happen. “Do you want to kiss me?”

  Straggler makes a squeaking sound. “What?” he says, his eyes flying open. “I don’t know! I mean, yes. I would. I do. But I know we aren’t going to, so that’s all right. More than all right because of course I didn’t expect you to. Do that. With me.”

  I stare absently at Willow, Talon, and Clara, who have begun another race, as I consider the situation.

  I have no desire to kiss Straggler. My move on plan has changed. Hyde and Hayden are incredible in their own ways, but I’m not ready to open my heart again. Not yet, but one day I know I will be. One day I’ll find someone who will see me as the best instead of one of the best.

  I will find a life-sustaining love.

  But my new plan is to focus on me now. Instead of trying to heal a wound, I’m going to keep doing things that make me feel strong. Spending time with Clara. Protecting my tribe. I can do those. They fill me. And some wounds you can’t fix by sheer will. You just have to let them heal on their own.

  Regardless of all that, I am going to kiss Straggler. Not for me, but for him. The contentment inside me is so strong that
I have to spread it.

  I actually feel like trying to be nice.

  “Haven?” I say. “I have a birthday gift for you.” Then I lean over and plant a kiss on his lips.

  When I draw away, he is stunned, but I’m not finished yet. I can’t help but smile, knowing how much my next words will mean to him. “You can tell both of your brothers I said you were the best.”

  Excerpt from Into the Still Blue

  Keep reading for a sneak peek at the heart-stopping conclusion to Veronica Rossi’s epic and unforgettable Under the Never Sky trilogy.

  1

  ARIA

  Aria lurched upright, the echo of gunshots ringing in her ears.

  Disoriented, she blinked at her surroundings, taking in the canvas walls, the two bed pallets, and the stack of battered storage trunks, finally recognizing Perry’s tent.

  Pain pulsed steadily in her right arm. She looked down at the white bandage wrapped from her shoulder to her wrist, dread swirling in her stomach.

  A Guardian had shot her in Reverie.

  She licked her dry lips, tasting the bitterness of pain medication. Just try it, she told herself. How hard could it be?

  Aches stabbed deep in her bicep as she tried to make a fist. Her fingers gave only the slightest twitch. It was like her mind had lost the ability to speak with her hand, the message vanishing somewhere along her arm.

  Climbing to her feet, she swayed in place for a moment, waiting for a wave of dizziness to pass. She’d come to this tent soon after she and Perry had arrived, and hadn’t left since. But she couldn’t stay there a second longer. What was the point, if she wasn’t getting better?

  Her boots sat on top of one of the trunks. Determined to find Perry, she slipped them on—a challenge, one-handed. “Stupid things,” she muttered. She tugged harder, the ache in her arm becoming a burn.

  “Oh, don’t blame the poor boots.”

  Molly, the tribe healer, stepped through the tent flaps with a lamp in hand. Soft and gray-haired, she looked nothing like Aria’s mother had, but they had similar demeanors. Steady and dependable.