Let The Wind Rise (Sky Fall, #3)(74)

“How’s your ankle?” I ask Solana.

She circles her foot a few times. “I won’t slow you down.”

“I’m not worried,” I tell her. I’m fairly certain I owe her my life. “How did you hear that first wind spike? I never would’ve seen it if you hadn’t grabbed me.”

She curls her arms around herself. “My senses are stronger now that I’m carrying ruined drafts.”

I try not to shudder, but the thought of being filled with tainted winds . . .

“Yeah, I know it’s creepy,” she mumbles.

“I don’t think creepy’s the right word,” I tell her. “More like . . . uncomfortable.”

“So you aren’t disgusted by the power of pain anymore?” Aston asks.

I’m stunned to realize I’m not. “The way she’s using it doesn’t seem to bother the sky. Why should I feel any different?”

“Yes, but you realize she wouldn’t be able to use it her way if others weren’t abusing the power?” Aston reminds me.

“So she’s managed to make the most of a difficult situation,” Vane says, but his voice sounds distracted.

I follow his gaze and see him staring at a grayish building stationed near the base of the pointed rock.

“I count twelve cars in the parking lot,” he mumbles. “So I’m guessing that means there’s about fifty people in there.”

“I think you’re overestimating,” Aston tells him. “The structure feels mostly empty to me.”

“Mostly empty isn’t the same as empty,” Vane reminds him.

“It’s not,” Aston agrees. “Welcome to a moment when you’ll have to settle for ‘good enough.’ Shades of gray. Necessary evils. Much like what we’re letting happen over there.”

He points to the battle we’ve just escaped, and from our higher vantage point things look far bleaker. The Gales are fighting the Stormers with windslicers, so there must still not be any useable winds. And for every Stormer fighting, there are two more watching from the sidelines, ready to swoop in as reinforcements if the others fall or tire.

“Where’s my mother?” I ask, realizing I haven’t seen her.

“She said she’d find higher ground and send reports on what’s happening. I doubt she’ll be much help, since you already made her mostly useless with that dramatic shoulder injury.”

“Higher ground,” I repeat, checking the field again. “We’re at the highest point right now, aren’t we? Other than the rock face where Raiden’s waiting? And she’s not here, is she?”

“Oh, wonderful,” Vane grumbles. “What deal do you think she’s striking with Raiden this time? Handing all four of us over—maybe with whipped cream and a cherry on top?”

“I can’t imagine she’d be that foolish,” Aston says.

I roll my eyes. “Clearly you don’t know my mother.”

“Actually, she and I are closer than you’d think. Every time I absorb her pain I understand her better—but that’s not what I meant about her being foolish. She’s very aware that I’ve made the same threat as Raiden. I know what draft she’s protecting. And I know the command to destroy it.”

“You wouldn’t,” I whisper as everything inside me coats with frost.

“Oh, I think you know me well enough to know that I very much would. I’m like a thunderhead that way. I can look soft and fluffy. But get too close and I will blast the heart right out of you.”

“No one’s blasting the heart out of anyone,” Vane tells him, “unless it’s Raiden. Or Arella—if she really is off cutting another deal. And if you do anything that hurts Audra—or her father’s songs—I’ll show you just how violent a Westerly’s capable of being.”

“Good,” Aston says. “Keep that darkness close. You’re going to need it when we get to Raiden.”

“Speaking of which,” Solana jumps in, “shouldn’t we get working on that? The Storms are closing in on the Gales.”

“I was hoping your little Westerly might return with a few reinforcements before we press on,” Aston tells me.

I’ve been counting on the same thing. But no matter how far I stretch my senses, I can’t feel any winds.

“I have five drafts tucked away,” Solana offers. “Three Southerlies, a Northerly, and an Easterly—plus the two ruined winds I caught.”

“And I used four in that wind spike,” Vane adds. “And I have a Westerly shield.”

“Still not enough for what I was thinking,” Aston says. “We’ll just have to improvise.”

“What if we . . .” Solana’s voice trails off, and she closes her eyes. “I think I know a command that will blur our forms as we move—I just have to think it through to make sure it’s useable.”

She reaches for my hands and stares into my eyes.

It takes me a second to realize she’s testing her motives.

I suppose protecting the girl who stole your betrothed is about as unselfish an act as possible.

“Okay,” she whispers, her hands starting to shake. “I don’t think it’ll stretch very wide, so we’re going to have to huddle together.”