“Because you’re a traitor!”
It’s like she doesn’t even hear me. Her mind’s somewhere else as she rubs the bird on her cuff, staring into the void between us. “I did everything I could to keep my family safe. I convinced your father to start eating, so he’d be too weak to fight. I used you to give us away because I knew your father would forgive you. And I thought it would make you more obedient if you thought you were to blame.”
“Obedient?” Vane shouts. “You framed your daughter—let her take the blame—”
“She was to blame!” My mother’s hard eyes focus on me. “When the Stormer came, I’d almost convinced your father to flee—almost convinced him to abandon the Westons because we weren’t strong enough to save them. But then you ran back into the storm. That’s when it all fell apart. I felt you get caught. Your father went to rescue you, but the storm snared him, too. So I fought my way to the Stormer to demand he release you both and he told me he had orders to kill me.”
“Serves you right,” Vane spits. “In fact, I think I was there when that happened. I saw you fighting. Right before he beat you and flung you out of the storm like trash.”
“He did not beat me.”
“Really? That’s not what it looked like from where I stood. You did some fancy wrist flick thing a few times and pissed him off—but he still launched you out of his way.”
“Because you distracted me! And I hurt him in ways you can’t even imagine.”
The chill in my mother’s voice turns my blood cold.
She scratches at her skin again, and for the first time I see the pain for what it really is. A poison sinking into her.
I’m afraid to know how far it spread.
“Vane?” I ask, barely able to form the word. “Tell me exactly what you saw.”
He frowns, like he’s reliving the memory. “I saw the Stormer attack your mom. At first she was losing, but then she flicked her wrist and knocked him over with the wind somehow. Then he made himself an indestructible shell of winds, so she flicked her arm and attacked the other Stormer. That’s when he got pissed and launched her away so he could go help his friend.”
Spots dance behind my eyes and I don’t want to hear any more. But I have to know. “Why did you think there was another Stormer?”
“I heard a guy cry out somewhere in the distance after she flicked her arm. Who else would it be?”
I wobble on my feet, wishing I could drop to the ground and never get up again. Anything to not have to tell Vane the truth.
“There was only one Stormer,” I say, forcing myself to look at my mother. She’s staring me down, like she knows what I’m thinking and is ordering me not to say it. But she can’t hide her secret anymore.
I’ve always wondered how things went so wrong that day—how two trees could accidentally impale Vane’s parents after they’d been captured. The Stormer never would have let anything happen to Raiden’s precious cargo.
But with a flick of her wrist my mother could’ve sent those jagged boughs anywhere she pleased.
“You killed the Westons, didn’t you?” I whisper.
Vane sucks in a breath.
My mother doesn’t even flinch before she responds. “I betrayed Raiden the same way he betrayed me.”
Her words form a storm in my head, twisting and pounding as I fight them, block them—refuse to accept them. But truth always finds a way to sink in.
I search my mother’s face for any sign of guilt or regret—or even madness brought on by her poisonous gift.
But she looks . . . blank.
And her voice is unashamed when she adds, “They never would have survived Raiden’s interrogation. They were as good as dead anyway.”
“That’s only because you helped them get captured!” Vane screams.
“They didn’t deserve my protection,” she snaps back. “They were weak—and weak by choice. I was done worrying about them. All I wanted was to get my family out of there. And that’s what I tried to do. But my husband wouldn’t leave you. He sacrificed himself to save a worthless little boy.” She lunges for Vane.
I yank him out of her reach and shove her back, clawing her skin as I do.
My mother laughs as she stares at the bloody trails I’ve left on her bare arms.
Laughs.
The cold, empty sound shatters the last of the illusions she’s wrapped around herself, showing me who she really is—or has become.
A murderer.
She must see the realization on my face because her eyes narrow and she reaches up, tearing out the knots of her braid and letting her hair fall free. “I guess this means we’re done pretending. And I’m done protecting you.”
“Protecting me? You’ve done nothing but belittle and ignore—”
“Not you, Audra—you’ve already gotten more than you deserved when you inhaled your father’s gift. But I have been protecting him.”
Vane barks a laugh, sounding very close to unraveling. I grip his arm to stop him as he advances toward her.
“Why did you protect him?” I ask.
“Raiden wanted me dead. I couldn’t risk losing the support of the Gales. Besides, Vane has what Raiden wants. So I erased his memories in case he saw too much and hid him away. Let you watch over him so you’d stay out of my sight—and voted against you being a guardian so you’d push him as hard as possible to prove me wrong. Waited for his Westerly breakthrough. And now it’s finally happened. I can finally take my revenge against Raiden.”
“I’ll never help you,” Vane growls, reaching for the wind.
“Oh, I think you will,” she tells him. “I know how to get through to you.”
My mother’s a blur of motion as a jagged piece of windmill launches at me, missing my skull by inches.
It takes me about two seconds to process the fact that my mother just tried to kill me. Then I shove Vane out of the way and launch a crusher.
The thick funnel slams into her, squeezing her at the waist—making her eyes bulge. But my mother weaves a wind spike and stabs the winds, breaking free.
She launches the spike at Vane.
I tackle him and the spike streaks over our heads as we crash to the sandy ground. Dirt and debris rain around us.
“You okay?” I ask, scanning him for wounds.
“Yeah. You?”
I hear the next wind spike coming and roll us out of the way. Sand explodes everywhere.
“You’re just as hopelessly in love as he is, aren’t you?” She blurs again as she launches another spike. Vane barely scrambles away in time. “Maybe you should have to feel what it’s like to lose what you care about most!”
Vane starts to call the wind to our side, but I place my hand over his lips to silence him.
I don’t want him fighting anymore.
Besides—this is my battle.
I jump to my feet, launching another crusher at my mother in the same motion.
She dodges the funnel with unnatural grace and speed.
“What’s your plan here, Audra? You can’t match me—even with your father’s gift. I was always the more powerful one.” She flicks both wrists, flinging more windmill debris. I barely manage to dodge in time. “You can’t stop me.”
She’s right. Her gift gives her the upper hand in any fight.
But she’s also wrong.
She doesn’t know my secret.
Vane and I bonded. And when we melded together, he filled my mind with a single word—a word I didn’t understand until right now.
Peace.
I know Westerly.
I’ve never heard of a bond allowing people to share languages. But for us, it did.
So I weave the nearest Westerly into my next vortex and hurtle it at my mother with all the force I can manage. Then another. And another.
One for the Westons.
One for my father.
One for Vane.
She collapses, covering her head, screaming from the pain as the whipping winds tear her clo
thes, her hair, her skin. Red rivers of blood streak from her face and congeal in the sand. Still I hammer her, unleashing ten years of pent-up rage. I rip my father’s pendant from her neck. She doesn’t deserve to mourn for him.
This. Ends. Now.
I stare at my mother’s dirty, bloody, unconscious face as I weave the four winds into a spike, just like the one Vane made before. It feels cold in my hand.
Deadly.
I raise it over my mother’s heart.
CHAPTER 57
VANE
For a second I’m too stunned to move.
Audra speaks Westerly?
Then reality sets in, and I scramble to my feet.
She’s hurt and angry and has every right to rage out on her mother. But I throw myself on her, knocking the wind spike free.
I pin her arms as she thrashes for freedom.
“Hey,” I breathe. “It’s me, okay? It’s me.”
She slows, just enough to really look at me, and her fury fades.
“There’s my girl.”
“Let me go, Vane—I have to—”
“Murder your mother? I know she deserves it, but do you really think you could live with yourself? You speak Westerly, Audra. You think you could deal with that?”
“I’m an Easterly.”
“But you’re part of me now too. So you better think it through very carefully, because you’re seconds away from seriously screwing up your life. Which I’d rather you didn’t do. I’m kinda looking forward to us being together. Making out all day. Taking a break for dinner. Then making out again all night. But if you want to waste all of that on her—if she’s worth that . . . I won’t stop you.”
I let go of her shoulders.
She looks away. Tears pool in her eyes.
“I know. Believe me—I know. She killed my family too.” I punch the ground as I say it, then try to swallow the rage. “It’s not worth it. It’s not.”
I stare at the bracelet on my wrist—all I have left of my parents after Arella stole them from me—and wonder if that’s really true. But the arrow on the compass still points west, reminding me of my heritage.
Violence isn’t the answer.
Audra rolls to her side and curls her legs into her chest. I pull her against me as she sobs. I stroke her face, her arms. Wipe away the tears, the dust, the dried blood. Try to make her better.
After who knows how long, she finally looks up at me. Her eyes are puffy and red—but she’s still gorgeous. “Now what?” she whispers.
I have a feeling that question is going to keep haunting us.
“The Gales are coming here, right?”
She nods.
“Then I think you should leave.” I point to her mother’s crumpled body. “Do you really want to be the one to tell them what your mother did?”
She glances at Arella—then immediately away, covering her mouth with her hand, like she’s feeling sick. “They’ll need to question me anyway.”
“Why? I can explain everything. Please let me take care of this for you. It won’t be easy to testify against your mom. Especially since I’m guessing your army has a pretty serious punishment for murderers.”
She cringes at the word, and her voice trembles as she says, “They’ll trap her deep in the earth, starve her from the drafts, until her wind form withers and crumbles. I hear it’s a pain far worse than death.”
I squeeze her hands. “She deserves it.”
She doesn’t say anything.
I give her a minute to collect herself, but I can’t take my eyes off the sky. The Gales could be here any second. “You’ve been through enough, Audra. Let me handle this.”
“But I’m your guardian. If they think I abandoned you—”
“I’ll tell them you’re looking for the other Stormer. Making sure he’s . . .”
I can’t say it.
I focus on the winds, letting the Westerlies’ peaceful song calm me.
“Are you going to tell them about us?” Audra whispers.
“No.”
She sighs with relief, like I’ve given the right answer. But then she tenses. “My mother knows.”
“How? She didn’t see anything. Besides, would they really believe a criminal over us?”
“No,” she admits after a second. She still looks nervous, though.
“We’ll figure it out,” I promise. “I just need to think through a few things.”
I’m still trying to wrap my head around the whole bonding thing, but . . . I have a feeling Audra and I were already connected somehow.
When Audra and I were kids and clung to each other after the storm, something passed between us. A rush of heat. Kind of like what happened today when we kissed—but totally different, too. More like we were drawing strength and support from each other.
Could that be another kind of bond?
It would explain the sparks we feel when we touch, and the way I’ve been able to see her in my dreams.
And it would mean Audra did nothing wrong today by kissing me. We were already connected, long before the Gales made their little betrothal.
I’m just not sure if that’s true. Or possible.
“You should go,” I tell her, helping her sit up.
“You’re sure you’ll be okay?”
“I’ll be fine. In fact, I’m looking forward to finally meeting these Gales of yours. I have a few bones to pick with them.”
She gives a sad smile. “Don’t get yourself exiled.”
“Please—I’m the last Westerly. I’m gold.”
Her smile fades.
“I’ll be fine.” I cup her cheek, pulling her face toward me. Ready to kiss her goodbye.
At the last second I shift and kiss her forehead. It’s not time to say goodbye. I’ll never say goodbye again.
“I’ll see you soon,” I whisper.
“How will you get home? You won’t be able to fly that far.”
“I’ll have one of the Gales give me a lift. They owe me. Just go. Clean yourself up. No offense—but you kinda need it.”
She smiles for real this time, and shoves me. “You’re pretty filthy yourself.”
“You love that about me.”
Her face turns serious. “I do.”
My heart swells, and I’m ready to change my mind and kiss her goodbye like she’s never been kissed goodbye before. But she calls a group of Easterlies to her side. Our eyes hold as she wraps the drafts around her and floats slowly away.
Audra’s mom doesn’t stir, but I coil a couple of Westerlies around her hands and feet just to be safe. Then I squat in the shade of a windmill and watch the sky. The winds whip around me, filling the air with songs asking the same question in my head.
What now?
I don’t know.
But . . . maybe I don’t need to know. I love Audra. She loves me. We survived the storm. We finally know the truth about our pasts.
Isn’t that enough?
“Who are you?” a man’s voice asks, and I nearly pee my pants.
I turn to face a tall man wearing the same black uniform as Audra.
A Gale.
His dark, shoulder-length hair has an intricate braid running down one side of his narrow, wide-eyed face—but half of his hair remains loose. Maybe that means he’s special. Which would be awesome because I have some demands for him.
“Vane Weston,” I say, standing and offering a hand to shake. “Maybe you’ve heard of me?”
His eyes widen, and he turns to Arella’s unconscious form. “What happened?”
“Better have a seat. You and I have a lot to talk about.”
CHAPTER 58
AUDRA
I didn’t plan to return to my mother’s house. I never wanted to see it again. But the winds seemed to steer me here. Like there’s something they want me to find.
I stand in the shade of the oak where I swore my oath to the Gales. The oath I’ve now broken.
What will I do without its rigid structure guiding my life?
What do I have left?
Vane.
I feel like I should add a question mark to the end of his name. Every thought around him is a question.
How can we be together?
How do I let him in?
How do I have anything normal, when my life’s been shredded to bits, turned inside out, painted different colors and reassembled in an order I don’t recognize?
How?
The heat starts to suffocate me, so I make my way to the dark, creaky house. My mother’s trace hangs so heavily in the air it’s like she’s here.
A ghost. A shadow. Following my every step.
My hands graze the cold walls as I move down the empty hall. Guiding me to the one thing I have to see.
The wind chimes hang over the table, still and silent. Suffocated.
I reach up and slide them off the hook, my eyes burning as the chimes tinkle from the motion. I run my fingers over the intricate etchings my father made on the graceful blackbird.
This was how he saw my mother.
Beautiful.
Wild.
Perfect.
Sobs choke me as I remove his pendant from my pocket, and my tears drip on the black cord. But it doesn’t hurt to let them out. For the first time, I’m glad he’s gone. He doesn’t have to see her for who she really is.
Or maybe he knew.
Maybe he saw something during the storm. Maybe that’s why he sent his gift to me instead of her. He knew I would use it for good.
I’ll never know for sure.
But I hope not.
I drape the pendant around the blackbird’s neck and knot the cord tight. Let him rest with the version of her he loved.
Now it’s time to set him free.
I kick the dust off my feet as I retreat down the hall and cross the threshold. Then I close the door on that chapter of my life and step into the winds.
The air is full of Easterlies, and when I concentrate, I hear one singing the song I always listen for. The song I sometimes believe is my father’s windsong.
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