Let the Sky Fall (Sky Fall #1)(37)

My body’s way of punishing me for my crime.

“So,” Vane says, reminding me I’m not alone. “What are we going to do now?”

I’m honestly not sure. I’d always planned to make him master each language on its own, hoping his increased familiarity with the wind would trigger his Westerly breakthrough.

Now we have eight days—assuming my mother delivers on her promise. Less than eight days, since today is mostly over. We don’t have time for him to master anything.

The smartest tactic would be to trigger his Northerly and Southerly breakthroughs now, and train him in the power of three. Even the most rudimentary knowledge of combined drafts will be more powerful in a wind battle than competency with only one.

But can he really handle three breakthroughs in less than a day?

My mind was nearly overwhelmed when I chose to have my Gale trainer trigger two at once—and I’d been speaking the Easterly tongue for almost my entire life.

Vane’s mind is already taxed with all he’s learned and felt since last night. To add the strain of two more breakthroughs would be a tremendous temptation on his senses—one even experienced sylphs would find hard to resist.

“Uh, you want to clue me in to what you’re thinking about?” Vane asks. “ ’Cause standing in a date grove in the hundred-and-twenty-degree heat getting attacked by flies isn’t really what I had in mind for the rest of the evening.”

I stall for a long breath, forcing myself to admit this is our only option. “The best way to train you is to force your mind to have two more breakthroughs. That’s what we call it when the wind shoves its way into your consciousness and makes a connection, so you can understand its language. I triggered your Easterly breakthrough last night, when I joined the wind and entered your mind. That’s why you could see me in my wind form—and why you can understand the Easterly tongue now.”

“So . . . pretending any of that makes sense—which, by the way, it totally doesn’t,” Vane says, jumping in, “one question: Why do you say that like you’re telling me we need to chop off both my arms, make them into a stew, and feed them to me for dinner?”

I sigh. “Because triggering three breakthroughs so close together is going to be very . . . unpleasant.”

“Unpleasant?”

“Dangerous.”

“Okay, I’m not a fan of that word.”

“If there were any other way—”

“There is. You could call for backup, like you promised last night. What happened to that plan? I liked that plan much better.”

“I did ask for backup.” My eyes drop to my feet. “My request was denied.”

“Denied?”

“Yes.” His tendency to repeat everything as a question will definitely push me over the edge by the end of this.

“But I thought I was the last Westerly. Future king. All that jazz. Doesn’t that make protecting me kind of a high priority?”

“It does. They’re stalling the Stormers as long as they can. And they know I’m one of the best guardians in the Gales.”

“Yeah—and you said last night you’re too weak to fight them on your own—even with my help.”

“Not . . . necessarily. There’s something I can do that will definitely defeat the Stormers.”

“Uh—if it will definitely defeat them, why don’t we just do that?”

“We don’t ‘just do that,’ because it’s the ultimate sacrifice.”

The words slip out before I can stop them.

I feel him watching me, but I refuse to look at him—refuse to face whatever emotions he has written across his face. I don’t know what I want him to feel.

I don’t know how I feel.

“So if I’m understanding this right,” he says after a minute, “these Gales you worship so much—they’ve sent you on a death mission instead of providing reinforcements?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Really. Then what is it like, Audra? ’Cause it seems pretty clear to me. And it’s wrong. They can’t make you—expect you . . .”

His voice trails off, and I can’t help stealing a glimpse of his face.

My heart skips when I see the look in his ice-blue eyes. It’s been so long since anyone looked at me that way, I almost don’t recognize the sentiment.

He cares.

Vane Weston cares about me.

I blink the tears away before they can form.

It doesn’t change anything. “I’ve sworn an oath to protect you with my life, and I intend to keep it. No matter what.”

It’s a simple statement, but the effect it has on Vane is profound.

He steps closer. Close enough that I feel his warmth in the air. Closer than I should let him stand. “It’s not going to come to that,” he says, his voice more serious than I’ve ever heard it. “Trigger the breakthroughs. Whatever it takes.”

I swallow to find my voice. “You understand that the process is going to be very difficult.”

“Yes.”

“Painful, even.”

“I’ll . . . deal with it.”

Who is this boy and what did he do with Vane?

“You’re sure?”