Let The Wind Rise (Sky Fall, #3)(13)

“It’s not that I don’t see value,” I say. “It’s that I don’t think it’s worth destroying myself for it. But if you’re already under its influence . . .”

“Ahhhh, I see. So I’m a lost cause and get to do your dirty work for you. Is that why you brought the murdering mother as well?”

“Actually, he brought me to see through the tricks of silly fools,” Arella says, slithering out of her sandy prison.

“Don’t get too cozy,” Aston warns. “Just because I haven’t killed you yet, doesn’t mean I won’t.”

“I don’t believe you,” Solana says, taking a small step toward him. “You were one of the Gales who came to help after I lost my first guardian. I’ll never forget how kind you were. How safe you made me feel.”

“Yes, well, things have changed a bit.” Aston raises his arm, and I reach for another Westerly. But instead of attacking, he peels back the sleeve of his cloak and waves his hand back and forth.

A strange whistling prickles the air, and glints of moonlight leak through his skin.

It takes my brain a second to realize it’s because his arm is covered in pin-size holes.

I squeeze my eyes tight, but I can’t wring out the horrifying image. And I can’t stop myself from imagining Audra looking just as Swiss-cheesy.

“How long after you were captured did Raiden start to . . .” I don’t finish the question.

Aston turns away, wrapping his arms around his chest. “The torture began immediately.”

I sink to my knees and punch the sand so hard it sends the grit flying into my eyes—but I’m already tearing up.

“I’m sorry,” Aston tells me. It almost sounds like he means it. “If it’s any consolation, she’s definitely still alive—for the moment, at least.” He tosses something on the beach. “She left this here during her last visit.”

My blurry eyes only see a smudge of blue, but Arella whispers something about guardian pendants, and I scramble to grab it before she can.

The cord is blue.

The sobs hit me then—huge heaving wails that could rival any toddler.

But I don’t care.

She’s alive.

I squeeze the proof as tight as I can as the sobs keep coming.

Pretty soon I’m choking on my own snot, winning the prize for the Most Pathetic Dude in the History of Pathetic Dudes. Until gentle arms wrap around me, followed by a soft breeze.

I lean into the warmth, my mind drifting with a rush of sunny memories.

Chasing magpies in a field, stretching out my arms and wishing I could fly away with them.

“Someday,” my mom tells me. “Someday you’ll rule the whole sky.”

Then somehow I’m sneaking through an orchard with my dad, grabbing peaches off the branches.

Juice dribbles down our chins, and he tells me, “We’ll have to jump in the lake before your mother finds out.”

Their voices feel so familiar, and so foreign at the same time.

I try to remember more, but cold fingers squeeze my arms, dragging me away from the warmth.

“He doesn’t need your comfort,” Arella snaps.

“Shouldn’t that be his decision?” Solana snaps back.

“He made his choice. And it had nothing to do with you.”

It’s obvious what Arella’s implying—and she’s technically right.

But she doesn’t get to be the one to say it.

“You certainly are an interesting group,” Aston says, as I pull away from both of them, nearly wrenching my elbow in the process. “I’d almost love to keep you here to watch how this all plays out. But I don’t think I could stomach Loverboy’s sniveling.”

“I’m not sniveling,” I say in . . . a pretty snively voice.

I dry my nose on my sleeve and clasp Audra’s pendant around my neck, trying to keep focused on what’s really at stake here.

“Ah, there’s the look,” Aston says. “The I’m going to throw my life away look. Your little girlfriend had it too, when she decided to leave my protection. And it’s worked out so well for her, hasn’t it?”

I really want to punch him.

But since we still need him, I mumble, “If you help us, we can get her out of there. I’m betting you know that fortress better than anyone.”

“I do. And I hate to crush the dream, but no one can break into Brezengarde.”

“My father escaped,” Solana argues.

“As did I,” Aston reminds her. “But breaking in and breaking out are two very different things. There’s a chance she might make it out on her own—if she uses that brain of hers. But even then . . .”

“I can find a way in,” Solana insists.

I wish I could feel her confidence. But it doesn’t matter. “I have to try something.”

“Yes, I’m sure that’s what Raiden’s counting on,” Aston says. “Not that he needs your power. But he does so love to collect things. And what are you going to do when he catches you?”

“If he catches me,” I correct. “And . . . I’ll find a way to kill him.”

The words would be a whole lot more convincing if my voice wasn’t shaking.

Aston sighs. “Sadly, that’s not what I meant—though we’ll need to circle back to the Worthless Westerly Conundrum later. You have a much more fundamental problem than that. There’s a reason Raiden rarely bothers with bodyguards. Anything you throw at him. Any deathblow you try to deliver. It all ricochets right back onto you. He calls it his backlash. I never could find a way around it.”