Let The Wind Rise (Sky Fall, #3)(53)

I’m glad he is—but his injuries?

There. Are. No. Words.

He catches me staring and gives me an exaggerated wink, like that will somehow make me forget his swollen face and shredded chest.

Audra comes up beside me—close enough that I can feel her heat through the air. I take a breath and remind myself: slow and steady.

“How bad is he?” I ask. “Tell me the truth.”

I wasn’t sure if she would, but she gives me the full horror story. By the end I have to bend over to get some blood to my head so I don’t pass out.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

Once again, I can’t believe that I’m the one being comforted.

I suck in a huge gulp of air, trying to drag myself together. “I’m just worried about you. Having to see all of that . . .”

“It was nothing compared to what Gus had to face.”

Maybe—and thank God, even if I know it’s crazy selfish to think that.

But still.

“You don’t have to downplay what you’ve gone through, Audra. It had to be awful.”

She swallows hard and looks away. “It was.”

They’re two teeny words—but they crush every part of me.

I reach up to wipe away her fresh tears. “I wish I knew how to help.”

“You are helping. You’re here.”

“I am—not that you really needed me. I should’ve known you’d find a way to escape.”

“It wasn’t me,” she says. “It was Gus. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through this without him.”

I . . . don’t know what to say.

I’m glad Gus was there for her—well, not glad, given that Gus is basically a walking wound right now because of it.

But I’m glad she wasn’t alone.

It’s just . . .

“I wish I could’ve been there.”

If this were a movie, that would be her cue to give some big sappy speech about how I was there—always on her mind—and how the very thought of seeing me was what kept her going.

But this is Audra, so she tells me, “I’m glad you weren’t.”

She does take my hand, though, and sparks tingle everywhere our skin touches.

Even without our bond.

Even in this horrible place.

Even with all the complications piling up between us.

She’s everything.

My less noble side starts screaming, SCREW THE SLOW-AND-STEADY PLAN!

Even my noble side tries to convince me that bonding again might help her heal.

I lean a little closer—and I swear she leans closer to me. Her eyes are even focused on my mouth, making it pretty dang tempting.

But a thundering CRUNCH sends us both jumping back.

I turn toward the turbine, where Gus has peeled back a huge piece of metal, revealing a cluster of smaller gears spinning way faster than the others.

“If they didn’t know we were here before, they do now,” Audra warns us.

“Who cares?” Solana asks. “We’re shutting them down. Look!”

She pries one of the gears off with her windslicer—then another and another—each gear causing a chain reaction through the turbine.

Sprockets screech. Cogs clank. Springs snap. And everything sloooooooooooooooooows, until the hum of the fans fades away, and the floor stops vibrating.

The final nails in the turbine’s coffin are the vents lining the walls around us, which clamp shut one by one.

I should be celebrating the victory, but my chest feels too heavy. I can’t speak—can’t breathe—and from the way everyone else is clutching their throat, I’m guessing they’re having the same problem.

My vision dims and I grab on to Audra, using the last of my strength to drag her toward anything that could be an exit.

We only make it a few steps before the world fades to black.





CHAPTER 30


AUDRA


I wake up in chains.

Cold, heavy metal pulling against my wrists, ankles, and waist.

Jagged stone at my back.

Blackness all around.

The pit is so deep, it’s only a shadow stretching into oblivion. I thought nothing could be worse than my damp cell in Raiden’s dungeon. But this is beyond reason.

I try to piece together how I ended up here—something to do with a tower.

And a turbine.

And . . .

“Vane?” I whisper, hoping he won’t reply.

Please don’t let him be here—don’t let Raiden have that much control.

“Audra?” Vane asks groggily, shattering the last of my hope.

I try to turn toward the sound, but there’s a chain weighing down my forehead, restricting even the smallest motion.

“Are we all here?” Solana asks from somewhere farther away.

“I think so.”

Gus’s voice carries a heaviness that wasn’t there earlier. I don’t know if that means he was injured during our capture, or if his previous wounds are flaring up. The air here certainly can’t be helping. It’s disgustingly stagnant.

We must be deep under the earth.

“Welcome to my oubliette,” Raiden calls from somewhere high above us. “Clearly I should’ve kept you here all along, but I believed in the competency of my guards. That problem has now been corrected.”