Free Brooke by Veronica Rossi Page B

shook her head. “I’m fine. I’m tired of being asleep.”
    Asleep wasn’t really the right word. For the past few days, she had a few murky recollections of surfacing from a black abyss for medicine and sips of broth. Sometimes Perry was there, holding her and whispering in her ear. When he’d spoken, she’d seen the glow of embers. Other than that, there’d been nothing but darkness—or nightmares.
    Molly took Aria’s numb hand and squeezed. Aria felt nothing, but as Molly probed higher, she sucked in a breath, her stomach clenching.
    “You’ve had some nerve damage,” Molly said. “I suppose you’re figuring that out for yourself.”
    “But it’ll heal, won’t it? Eventually?”
    “I care for you too much to give false hope, Aria. The truth is, I don’t know. Marron and I did the best we could. We were able to save the limb, at least. For a while it looked like we might have to remove it.”
    Aria drew away, turning toward the shadows as the words sank in. Her arm had almost been removed. Taken off, like some expendable part. An accessory. A hat or a scarf. Had she really come that close to waking up and finding a piece of herself missing?
    “It’s the arm that was poisoned,” she said, tucking it close to her side. “It wasn’t much to start with anyway.” Her Marking, the half-finished tattoo that would have established her as an Aud, was the ugliest thing she’d ever seen. “Will you show me around, Molly?”
    Aria didn’t wait for an answer. The urge to see Perry—and to forget about her arm—was overwhelming. Ducking through the tent flaps, she came to a dead stop outside.
    She looked up, overcome by the sheer presence of the cave, a hefty immensity that felt both close and everywhere. Stalactites of every size emerged from the darkness above, darkness unlike what she’d experienced in her medicated haze. That had been empty, an absence. This darkness had sound and volume. It felt full and alive, droning low and constant in her ears.
    She drew a deep breath. The cool air smelled brackish and smoky, the scents so strong she could taste them.
    “For most of us, the darkness is the hardest part,” Molly said, coming to her side.
    Around them, in neat rows, Aria saw more tents, ragged ghosts in the gloom. Sounds carried from farther off, where torches flickered—the crunch of a cart wheeling over stone, the steady trickle of water, the pleading bleat of a goat—all echoed frenetically in the cave, assaulting her sensitive ears.
    “When you can’t see more than forty paces off,” Molly continued, “it’s easy to feel trapped. We aren’t, thank the skies. It hasn’t come to that yet.”
    “And the Aether?” Aria asked.
    “Worse. Storms every day since you arrived, some right on top of us.” Molly threaded her arm through Aria’s healthy one. “We’re lucky to have this place. Sometimes it’s not easy to feel that way, though.”
    An image of Reverie crumbling to dust came to Aria’s mind. Her home was gone, and the Tide compound had been abandoned too.
    Molly was right. This was better than nothing.
    “I suppose you want to see Peregrine,” Molly said, leading Aria past a row of tents.
    Immediately, Aria thought . But she said, simply, “Yes.”
    “You’ll need to wait a little while, I’m afraid. We had word of people entering the territory. He’s gone out with Gren to meet them. I’m hoping it’s Roar and that he’s brought Cinder with him.”
    Just hearing Roar’s name brought a rawness to Aria’s throat. She worried about him. She’d only been separated from him for a few days, but it felt like too long.
    They came to an open area, wide as the clearing at the heart of the Tide compound. At the center spread a wooden platform surrounded by tables and chairs—all packed with people gathered around lamps. Dressed in browns and grays, they blended into the dimness, but their chatter drifted toward her, their voices tinged with anxiety.
    “We’re only allowed