Let the Sky Fall (Sky Fall #1)(20)

“The Gales need me to keep watch more than ever,” she explains, meeting my eyes. “I’ll be risking too much as it is by stalling them. Remember, Raiden’s been desperate to find me, ever since he learned I survived. That’s why I’m stuck in this hovel, cut off from the world.”

I laugh—but there’s no humor to it. “And you think the Gales value your life over Vane’s?”

“Of course not. But Vane has you as his guardian.”

“And I’m not strong enough to protect him—not with the water in my system. There’s no way I can do it alone.”

“I can think of a way.”

Her voice is hushed, but everything inside me still twists into knots. “Is that what you’re hoping for?”

“I’m hoping you’ll trigger his Westerly breakthrough before the Stormers arrive. That’s what you were supposed to do, years ago. The Gale Force chose you because they knew no one would push him harder in his training. They knew how much you had to prove. Or redeem.”

Redeem.

It’s the closest she’s come to admitting that she blames me for my father’s death, and a rebellious tear sneaks down my face before I can smear the others away.

“The Gales have been incredibly frustrated with how slow Vane’s progress has been,” she adds quietly. “So take this for what it is—proper motivation to show them that you are a guardian and can get Vane to live up to his potential. Prove them right for trusting you. But . . . if you should fail . . . there is another option.”

She doesn’t look at me when she says the last part, so I can’t study her face—not that it would tell me how to respond.

None of my training taught me what to say if my mother tells me to end my life. Especially since she sounds more like she’s warning me I might break a nail. Not die.

I fight back the flurry of anger and pain that swells inside me. Hadn’t I sworn—and planned for—this possibility when I accepted the role as Vane’s guardian?

I knew the risks. Better than anyone.

“I’m prepared to make the sacrifice if it’s necessary,” I whisper, surprised at how true the words feel.

Every breath I take is stolen from my father, so if it comes to that I’ll follow his lead and make the ultimate sacrifice.

If it comes to that.

If Vane can master all four languages in the next eight days, he’ll be undefeatable.

It’s a big if, but it’s still a possibility.

Otherwise, I’ll do what has to be done.

My mother clears her throat, almost like she’s battling back emotions of her own. But her face is the same unreadable mask she’s worn since the day my father left the earth. “I’ll send warning when I feel the Stormers arrive in the region,” she tells me.

I nod.

Trusting her goes against every instinct I have—but I’m out of options. All I can do is dive straight into Vane’s training and hope she delivers on her promise. I turn toward the door.

“I’ll need your windsong before you go,” she calls after me.

I freeze.

Every Windwalker is born with a song on their lips—a melody only they know. When we die, the tune becomes part of the wind. A small piece of us that carries on. Our mark on the world.

They don’t have to stay secret, but most of us never share them. Hearing someone’s windsong is like peering inside their heart. The last person I would ever want to reveal mine to is my mother.

“Nothing leaves a more powerful trace,” she explains when I stay silent. “Nothing will confuse the Stormers more.”

I’d rather strip bare and expose myself to the whole of the Gales.

But this isn’t about me.

I can’t look at her as I sing the simple verse:

A wandering breeze, swaying restlessly.



Swept up by flurries. Lost and led astray.



Storms rage and roar, and threaten all that remains.



But the breeze drifts ever onward. Finding its own way.



Each word pulls a tiny part of me with it and swirls in the air around us. My mother calls the verses toward her, tangling them together, like my breath has become the wind.

“You sing like your father,” she whispers.

I risk a glance at her, but find no warmth in her eyes. They’re colder and harder than I’ve ever seen. Like it’s a crime for me to remind her of him.

Part of me wants her to follow me down the hall, even though I know she won’t. She won’t care that this could be the last time she sees me alive. She’ll be relieved when I’m gone.

So I almost don’t hear her whisper as I open the door to leave. “You’re stronger than you think, Audra.”

I take a shaky breath. “Goodbye, Mother.”

I leave without turning around. She doesn’t say goodbye.





CHAPTER 11


VANE


Wake up, Vane,” a familiar voice whispers. I try to cling to the dream I’d been having—something about flying and wind—but the voice speaks again, breaking my concentration. “It’s time to start training.”

I force my eyes open, annoyed to find my room dim and gray. The sun’s only begun to rise—way too early for me to be awake.