That sounds much more likely than me being some sort of hero.
“Raiden had no reason to investigate. Not once the echoes reached him.” She looks at the sky. “When we pass on, the winds carry an echo of who we used to be—for a time, at least. My mother knew we’d need to hide from Raiden, so she made echoes for you, me, and her, and sent them along with the ones for your parents, my father, and the Stormer. Raiden had no reason to doubt the wind’s report. The wind doesn’t lie.”
“If the wind doesn’t lie, how did your mom pull that one off?”
“She used our losses. When someone you love dies, part of you dies with them. It’s why you’re never the same after losing someone. And the winds that touch you carry the loss with them. It’s not exactly like an echo, but she tweaked them somehow, bent them and changed them with her gift until they were close enough to convince Raiden of our demise.”
Just when I think my weirdness meter is maxed out, she finds a way to push me further.
“My mother commanded the shifted losses to flow to Raiden’s city, and not long after, the Gales heard reports that Raiden had declared us dead. A mistake on his part, sure—but we’re fortunate he made it. We might not have been able to hide you this long, otherwise.”
“Lucky me,” I grumble, hating her for convincing me again that I’m Vane Weston: Most Wanted Boy Alive.
“You are lucky.”
“Ugh—I’m so sick of people telling me that.”
“You have the potential to stop Raiden, Vane. Make him pay for what he’s done. I would kill for that kind of opportunity. You have no idea.”
I know I should be hungry for revenge—and I am. But the thought of me attacking Raiden makes the world spin and my spit taste sour. “How? How am I supposed to be strong enough to take him down? I don’t even know the slightest thing about any of this crap—”
“That’s what you have me for.” Her grip tightens on my shoulders. “I’m here to teach you everything you need to know. That’s my job.”
“Oh, good. I’m a job.”
I try to twist away, but she locks her arms and pulls me back. “It’s not just a job. It’s—I . . .” She stops, like she can’t find the words she needs.
I meet her gaze then, and the look I find makes me suck in a breath.
She cares.
About this job-mission-whatever-it’s-called—yes.
But beyond that—and beneath the uniform and the tight braid and the cold, hard exterior that makes her slam me into walls and wave swords in my face and seem ready to strangle me half the time—I can see the deeper truth.
She cares about me.
And that’s enough to make me put aside my fears, my worries about what they expect from me, my anger at my memories being stolen. Enough to make whatever sacrifices it takes to train for the battle that lies ahead worth it.
I probably don’t have a choice anyway, but that doesn’t matter.
She cares.
I’ll do this for her. And for the family we’ve both lost.
“I guess we need to train, then,” I say, stepping back into the charred room and peeling off my shirt—already soaked in sweat from the morning sun. I toss it in the corner and turn to face her. “Let’s get started.”
CHAPTER 14
AUDRA
I have no idea what convinced Vane to put his anger and fear and bratty, sarcastic attitude behind him, but I’m not complaining. When he stepped back into my shelter and stripped off his shirt, he became a completely different guy. Like the Vane I know was kidnapped and replaced with a serious, hardworking fighter—with incredible abs.
Not that I notice.
I try not to, at least.
It isn’t easy. Westerlies were known for being the most physically beautiful of our kind. Maybe it’s the warm, peaceful winds that nurtured them. Or something in their genes. Whatever it is, Vane’s definitely a Westerly. Nothing but sculpted, tanned muscle and long, graceful limbs. Not to mention a face with chiseled, symmetrical features and the most stunning blue eyes I’ve ever seen.
Solana’s a lucky girl.
He’s remarkable. In more than just looks.
Before the sky is bright blue with daylight, Vane masters our prime call and bends his first draft around the room. And by the time the day’s heat weighs on our shoulders like a thick, suffocating blanket, he’s learned to feel drafts over fifty miles away. Still a long way to go—when he tried to wrap the draft around his body, he didn’t hear the wind rebel and knocked himself flat on his back—but considering he had his first breakthrough yesterday, he’s amazing.
Well, until Gavin returns from his morning hunt. Then Vane’s a blur of flailing arms, shouted curses, and high-pitched screams as Gavin swoops and flaps around his head.
“What are you doing?” I shout over the commotion.
“That crazy bird is trying to kill me.” Vane grabs one of the palm fronds from my makeshift bed and runs through the room, scattering dust and broken bits of leaf as he waves the branch in wild, erratic patterns.
I race to his side and grab his wrist, freezing his arm midswipe. “Stop it, both of you. Gavin, quit dive-bombing Vane. And you!” I yank the branch from his hand.
Only then do I realize I’m practically pressed against his chest.
His bare chest.
It’s suddenly hard to breathe.
I drop his wrist and step back, letting the space between us calm my racing pulse. I toss the branch back into the pile and clear my throat. “Can you please refrain from injuring my pet?”
Gavin screeches. He doesn’t like when I call him that.
“And put your shirt back on before he scratches you,” I add, grateful for an excuse to get Vane clothed again.
He covers his head as Gavin dives. “That creepy bird is your pet?”
“Yes. So I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try to kill him.” I lock eyes with Gavin and hold my left arm straight out from my side. “Land.”
Gavin releases an earsplitting shriek and changes course to land on my arm, digging in his talons hard enough to prick through the thick fabric of my uniform. His silent protest.
Great. Now I have two difficult boys in my life.
I stroke Gavin’s cheeks, trying to calm him.
“Ugh—how can you touch that thing?”
“Please tell me you’re not afraid of birds. You do realize how absurd that would be, considering we share the sky with them?”
He grabs his T-shirt from where he flung it earlier, shakes off the sand and bugs, and throws it over his head, rushing to shove his arms through the sleeves like he doesn’t want to take his eyes off Gavin for a second. “Hey, I used to get attacked by a crazy hawk when I played in this grove as a kid . . .” His voice trails off. “Oh, God, it was that—that thing attacking me, wasn’t it?”
I try not to smile, but the corners of my mouth tilt up anyway. “It’s possible. Gavin knows to keep anyone from discovering my hiding place when I take a short nap. Maybe you wandered too close for his liking.”
“Or maybe he’s demented and likes to tear hair off kids’ heads for his own sadistic pleasure.” Vane wipes the sweat off his brow and dries it on his shorts. “So you’ve attacked me with wind, convinced me this place is haunted, and sent your killer bird after me. Any other ways you’ve made my life difficult? Is it your fault medicine gives me hives?”
“What?”
“The few times I’ve tried to take any pills I broke out in hives and threw up like crazy. That got anything to do with you?”
“No. Your body must’ve rejected the medicine because it’s designed for humans.”
“Right. And I’m not human. Still getting used to that, by the way. Kind of a big, life-changing thing, just so you know.”
There’s nothing I can say to that.
He shakes his head. “So does that happen very often?”
“The hives? No. None of us have had any reason to try groundling medicine. In case you haven’t noticed, w
e aren’t affected by the same viruses or ills as they are. It’s amazing they’re so much more prolific than we are. By all counts, we’re the superior creatures—that’s why it’s our responsibility to protect them. But what they lack in durability, they make up for in volume. It’s shocking how many children they produce. And the way they choose to crowd together in giant cities.”
I shiver at the thought of being packed in like that. People around all the time. Breathing my air. Stealing my wind. Makes my skin scream for a cool breeze.
But the morning drafts have stilled. And judging by the way the sun’s hammering us even at this early hour, it’ll be a stifling day.
Honestly, I don’t know how Vane’s borne it all this time. He’s fortunate to live in a fairly sparse area, as far as human cities go—the heat keeps the huge crowds away most of the year. Still—the heat. I steal away to the mountains for fresh air and space whenever I can. I don’t know how he doesn’t wither, trapped in this valley all these years, with no real release. Maybe he’s tougher than I think.
Vane ducks when I send Gavin to his perch on the windowsill.
Maybe not.
A loud gurgling rumbles around the half room.
Vane’s cheeks tinge with pink. “I haven’t eaten since the burger last night.”
The mention of food makes my mouth salivate and I clutch my waist, willing my stomach not to make a similar sound. The water has fully invaded my body. Every muscle aches from fighting the extra pull toward the earth, and everything inside me feels hollow and drained.
Much as I hate to surrender to the vulnerability—I need a break. “You should get back to your room so your parents won’t notice you were gone.”
“And what am I supposed to tell them if they have?”
I consider that. “What if you tell them you’ve started a new exercise program, early in the morning to beat the heat?”
“That doesn’t sound like me. I’m pretty lazy.”
“I’ve noticed.”
He grins and steps closer, blocking the sun as his shadow falls over me. “How about I tell them there’s this gorgeous girl who’s invited me to work out with her every morning, and I’m suffering through so I can be with her? That they’d believe.”
My face flames, and I know if I meet his eyes he’ll be looking at me the same way he did last night by the windmills, right before I had the winds rip us away. That deep, intense stare with those wide blue eyes that are so clear they remind me of ice, except they’re anything but cold when they look at me.
He moves even closer, leaving us only inches apart. His breath feels smooth and warm on my skin—like a slow Southerly breeze.
I take a step away, jumping when my back meets solid stone. Honestly, this tiny structure only has pieces of walls; how did I let myself get trapped against one of them?
“That’s fine,” I say when I recover. “If you’re more comfortable with it.”
“I am,” he says. “Because it’s true.”
He puts his arms on either side of me, caging me between them. My heart slams against my chest so hard it feels like it will bruise me from the inside out.
All I have to do is shove him away and I’ll be free. But I’m afraid to touch him, to feel that strange heat spread through me. That would be more dangerous than meeting his eyes.
But I have to stop this.
I crinkle my nose. “Someone needs to hit the showers.”
He laughs. “I call that Eau de Vane. It’s my signature fragrance.”
“Well, it smells like something died.”
I duck under his arm and slip away, relieved when he doesn’t try to stop me. I’m not sure what to do about his . . . advances. He’s finally cooperating. I can’t afford to have that change if he feels rejected.
But I can’t give him what he wants. Even if I want to—which I don’t.
I don’t.
I rub my temples, trying to calm the headache flaring behind my eyes. I’m used to the pain—my regulation braid often pulls too tight. But this time my skull feels ready to crack from the strain.
“You should let your hair down,” Vane says, clearly watching me closer than I want him to.
“I never let my hair down.”
“You did yesterday.”
“Not by choice.” I turn away from his scrutiny, heading toward his house. “We can get back to training later. After you’ve had a chance to cool off.”
He laughs. “I’m not the one who looked hot and bothered earlier.”
I’m not current with groundling slang, but I’m fairly certain what he’s implying—and he’s wrong.
“Anyway,” I say, changing the subject—quickly. “I recommend taking a nap. We’ll be putting in a long night tonight.”
“Sounds good to me,” he says, his smile stretching wider.
I roll my eyes. “For training, Vane. We’ll tackle some of the harder skills tonight, when it’s dark and the winds pick up.”
“Looking forward to it.”
That makes one of us. Just when I start to enjoy his company, his annoying side returns.
Then again, being annoyed is far better than that fluttery, breathless feeling I keep getting. I need to cling to the irritation, store it away, in case any of those other emotions resurface.
His stomach growls again.
“Better eat something too.”
“What about you?”
“Me?”
“Yeah, want to grab breakfast or something?”
“What? No—I can’t eat.”
One muffled growl erupts from my stomach before I can stop it.
“But I thought you said the water already weakened you. And it’ll take months to get out of your system, right? So why starve yourself if the damage has already been done?”
I can’t believe he’d even suggest such a thing. Clearly, he’s a long way from understanding the type of self-discipline I adhere to.
He does have a tiny point, though—and I hate him for it. Hate myself for seeing it. Hate my stomach even more for growling again.
“Eating or drinking will only extend my days of weakness, something I cannot allow.”
“Suit yourself. But your stomach agrees with me,” he adds when a third growl erupts from my gut.
If I could rip the noisy organ from my body, I would. “That will pass.”
“I hope so. Otherwise, it’ll be like training with a growling kitten all night.”
I ignore him, and we walk in silence until we reach the edge of the date grove.
“We should both grab a few hours’ rest while we can. I’ll be back when the sun sets.”
“You don’t want to come in? Cool off for a bit?”
“Your family’s not supposed to see me.”
“Come on, you can’t hide forever.”
“I’ve hidden for ten years. Pretty sure I can manage a few more days.”
“Days?”
My hunger fades to nausea as I nod. “The Stormers will be here in eight days.”
His smile vanishes. “That’s, um . . . soon.”
Yes, it is. “We’ll be ready.”
He looks as skeptical as I feel. The Stormers will pick up our traces by this evening. Will my mother really be able to stall them as long as she claimed?
I glance at the sky, half-expecting to see dark clouds creeping over the mountains. But vivid blue stretches as far as I can see.
We’re safe. For now.
“And what happens after that?” he asks. “I mean . . . assuming we win and stuff, then what? ’Cause I’m guessing Raiden has more Stormers to send after me, right?”
Honestly, I don’t know. All the Gales’ plans centered around Vane having the Westerly breakthrough long before Raiden found us. I’m the one who screwed things up by giving away our location.
But I can salvage this. I have eight days to force the breakthrough. I’ll find a way.
I force my voice to sound more confident than I feel as I say, “Assuming everything goes
according to plan, you’ll pose a far greater threat to Raiden than he’ll ever prove to you.”
“And if things don’t go according to plan?”
“Then the winds will tell the Gales what happened. They’ll come get you.”
My mother will know I made the sacrifice almost the second I surrender myself. My heart picks up speed, imagining scattered pieces of me spreading far and wide.
I push the thought away.
My mother will collect Vane. Take him to the Gales for protection. Tell them I failed.
“What about you?” he asks.
I look away, afraid he’ll see more on my face than I want him to. “All you need to know is that you’ll be safe. The Gales will take you to their fortress and train you to be ready to fight.”
“Whoa—hang on. So basically my options are: prisoner of Raiden or prisoner of your army? Please tell me there’s a secret option number three, because—no offense—those options suck.”
“No one is a prisoner of our army. And certainly not you. You’re our future king.”
He stops walking. “King? As in, a crown and a scepter and everyone calling me Your Majesty?”
“Not exactly. But yes, king. After you defeat Raiden, you’ll be given the throne.”
For a second he just stares at me. Then he laughs. “The throne? You guys have a throne?”
“Of course. We’re a scattered race, but we still have order. We still have laws and a ruler—or, we did, before Raiden usurped the kingship. But when we take our capital city back, you’ll be the one to restore the royal line. Everything’s already been arranged. We just need your help to overthrow the tyrant.”
He runs his hands through his hair. “That’s . . . crazy. I don’t know what to do with that. I don’t want to know what to do with that.”
“I know it’s a lot to take in, but this is the life you were meant to live.”
“I already have a life. What’s the plan for that, by the way? I just disappear in the middle of the night and my parents never see me again? What about school? What about my friends?”
“Those are . . . human things, Vane. They’ve only been a part of your life because we needed to keep you hidden. But the secret’s out. No matter what, you need to come back to your own kind. Put all the rest of this stuff behind you.”
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