Let the Sky Fall (Sky Fall #1)(16)

I snort. “I’m still trying to convince myself the mushrooms on my burger weren’t the psychedelic kind and I’m gonna wake up tomorrow and find out this was all a hallucination.”

She doesn’t smile. Her eyes narrow.

“Fine, I trust you.” Sheesh.

We fly in silence for a few seconds before she whispers, “Release,” and shoves me away from her again.

We hit the ground running as the winds unravel, setting us down in the soft grass of my front yard. The house is dark—except for my bedroom, which glows with the lamp I flicked on after she collapsed on my floor.

Seems like years ago, not hours.

My window is still open. Great. My room’s probably swarming with moths.

“I’ll be back to start your training tomorrow,” she says, turning toward the date grove.

“That’s it? I’m just supposed to sleep now?”

“You need rest. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

“What about you?” My skin itches just thinking about that pile of palm leaves she’s been sleeping on. “You could stay in my room if you want.”

She raises an eyebrow.

I feel my cheeks heat up. “I didn’t mean that. I’d take the floor.”

Half a grin stretches across her lips. I wonder if she knows how to give a full smile.

“I won’t be sleeping,” she says. “I need to see about getting help.”

“Oh. Right.” To fight the psychos coming to capture me, for a reason I still don’t understand. Yeah—sleep will definitely be a lost cause.

“Rest well, Vane,” she whispers, then races toward the palms.

I wait until she disappears into the grove before I climb through my window—cursing my parents for putting thornbushes in the planter underneath. I pull the window closed and lock it.

The clock on my nightstand says 1:03 a.m.

I stare at the empty water bottle on the ground. At the place on the rug where Audra passed out. At the thrashed pillows and sheets from when I startled awake.

I don’t know what to do with anything I’ve seen or felt or anything Audra told me. So I do what she ordered. I get into bed, wondering if this will be the first night I don’t dream about her.

I’ll miss her.

A soft breeze brushes through my room, singing some sort of ancient lullaby.

I close my eyes and let the whispers carry me away to dreams of my heritage.

Dreams of Audra.





CHAPTER 10


AUDRA


I pace the length of my tiny shelter so many times it’s a wonder my feet don’t wear a groove in the floor. Finally I collapse to the hard, dirty ground. Stalling, like a coward.

My eyes start to close and I rip them open. I haven’t slept more than two hours a night for ten years. The Gales warned me not to exhaust myself, but guarding Vane is a round-the-clock job. I can’t give in to self-indulgence and risk letting them down.

Letting my father down.

At least Vane gets to rest. The Easterly I sent will sing his overwhelmed mind to sleep. It’s a trick my father used, twisting a breeze into a whirl of lullabies. He sent one to my room every night after he’d tucked me in—adding his warm, rich voice to the mix.

My father couldn’t speak to the birds like my mother and I, but he sang like one. It wasn’t truly a gift, but something we shared nonetheless. Every time we flew together we’d sing duets.

But I didn’t add my song to the wind I sent Vane. My melodies were silenced the day my father died.

It felt like a piece of my heart crumbled away just weaving together the lullabies, but Vane deserves a last night of peace. He has a heavy burden resting on his shoulders—far heavier than the tasks resting on mine. The next few days will be the hardest of his life.

It surprises me how easy it is to empathize with him. Over the years I’ve had a hard time not resenting him. Hating that his life is more important than my father’s. More important than mine. I worried it would be hard to be civil once we were forced to interact.

And he is . . . challenging—but not always in the ways I expected. Some of my reactions tonight are a mystery to me. Like my hesitation to tell him the truth—one of the most fundamental aspects of my assignment. Or the times I was moved to touch him.

His arm.

His lips.

Why did I do that? I never intended to do that.

Had it been pity?

I want that to be the answer—but it doesn’t explain why my skin still simmers everywhere we touched. Why even now, just remembering the way he held me, or the look in his eyes, leaves my chest strangely empty. Almost like . . .

I stamp out the thought before it can finish.

Whatever those feelings are, I’ll squelch them immediately. I don’t need Vane Weston complicating things any more than he already has.

Gavin nips at my hand and his talons dig into my wrist, his not-so-gentle way of reminding me that I’ve stopped stroking the silky gray feathers along his back. He can be a demanding creature, but he’s my best friend. And he’s the only one who doesn’t hate me for what happened. He also ignores his instinct to migrate north, just to stay with me. So I tolerate his difficulties. Even when he leaves a half-eaten rabbit on the floor.

My stomach rumbles at the sight, shooting needles through my abdomen.