Let The Wind Rise (Sky Fall, #3)(19)

He drops his cloak, revealing the full horror of his wounds.

“And let’s not forget that I’m not a gorgeous young girl with deliciously pouty lips. How long do you think it’ll be before he—”

“STOP IT!” I scream, covering my ears.

Don’t picture it.

Do. Not. Picture. It.

“Leave him alone,” Solana says, trying to take my hand.

Aston blocks her. “Not until he proves that his life is worth all the guardians who’ve died to save him. Come on, Vane—what’s the big deal? A few minutes ago you were reveling in her pain. All I’m asking you to do is take the next step.”

My grip tightens on the wind spike, and I raise it over Arella’s hand.

She won’t die if I stab her pinky . . . and she’s done a million worse things.

“And still, you hesitate,” Aston says. “Behold, the worthlessness of the Westerlies.”

I reel around, pointing the spike at his head.

“Go on, then,” he says. “I’ll even make it easy for you.” He holds his palm in front of the wind spike, wiggling his pinky. “Slice away.”

I’m tempted.

I really am.

But I can’t do it.

Aston shakes his head, disgusted. “Here you are, racing across the country, pretending you’re willing to do whatever it takes. But your instincts will always slow your hand, won’t they? And when they do, your little girlfriend will die.”

“Shut up!”

“You can’t stop me,” Aston says. “And you can’t stop Raiden. He’ll break your girl down piece by piece. And when she finally takes her last ragged breath, she’ll do it knowing the boy she sacrificed everything for—the Westerly she spent her life protecting—couldn’t find the will to save her.”

“THAT WILL NEVER HAPPEN!”

“Prove it, then. Hurt me. Or hurt her.” He points to Arella. “Show me you can inflict some pain.”

“You want pain?” I ask, squeezing my wind spike so hard the winds feel ready to unravel.

“I want you to prove you have the stones to do what needs to be done.”

“Fine.”

I take a deep breath.

Then I kick him in the nuts.

Aston collapses to his knees, letting out the same wheezy groan I remember making after my friend Isaac accidentally nailed me in the balls during PE.

It’s a pain only guys understand—one I honestly wasn’t sure if Aston could feel, since I had no idea if Raiden had left his dudehood intact. But clearly Raiden did, because Aston’s clutching his stomach and looking ready to hurl.

“This—doesn’t—prove—anything,” he mumbles.

“It does, actually. It proves that if I fight my own way, the violence won’t get to me. I just inflicted a crap-ton of pain on you, and I’m not even queasy.”

“You think Raiden will ever let you get close enough to kick him?”

He hisses a command through his teeth, and a draft coils around my neck, twisting so tight, spots flash across my eyes.

“LET HIM GO!” Solana screams, but her next words sound very far away.

I’m stuck in that weird haze between panic and blacking out, so I can’t really tell what happens next. All I know is that the draft unravels and I get some much-needed air.

When my chest is done heaving, I find Solana and Aston in the middle of some sort of epic stare-down.

“Time to tell your fiancé what we’ve just discovered,” Aston tells her. There’s no teasing in his voice. “Five seconds . . . four . . . three . . .”

“I gave the command, okay?” Solana asks, not looking at me.

“Judging by the idiotic look on your face,” Aston adds, “I’m guessing you have no idea what that means. Think it through. The draft I attacked you with was broken. So the only people who can command them . . .”

I stumble back when I figure out how to finish the sentence.

Solana used the power of pain.





CHAPTER 10


AUDRA


Gus is vomiting blood.

Between every retch he keeps begging me not to worry.

But I doubt he’ll survive another round of Raiden’s torture.

I don’t even know if he’ll survive this one.

I try to convince myself that Raiden won’t let him die—that he needs Gus to pressure me.

But Aston was captured along with another Gale.

Only Aston made it out alive.

Even the Westerly shielding me seems worried. It keeps stretching thin, offering Gus gentle breezes of comfort. But whenever a noise warns that a guard might be approaching, it snaps back to protect me.

I wish it would shield the person braving the torture, not the one standing uselessly by.

But the wind is making its own decisions.

And it keeps choosing me.

So I sing until my throat turns raw and Gus finally falls silent. I can’t tell if he blacked out or fell asleep, but his labored breaths promise he’s still holding on.

I try to do the same.

I’d thought knowing what the guide meant would give me hope. But Aston’s escape plan is far more dangerous than I’d realized. We don’t just have to get out of our cells and through the mazelike fortress and past the myriad of guards—without any useable winds to assist us.