Let the Sky Fall (Sky Fall #1)(56)

I’m not sure if I’m fueled by fear or want or just sheer desperation. But it’s cards-on-the-table time. I’ve dreamed of her for too long—wanted her for too long—to let her shove me away because her stupid army thinks they can arrange my life.

I know she feels something for me.

I know it.

“Stop thinking about what your army wants. They’re not here right now. It’s just you and me. And you want me,” I whisper. “I have to believe that. Because I want you, too.”

It’s hard to push the last words out. But it feels good to say them.

I reach up, trying to slide my fingers into her hair, but her braid’s too tightly woven. I settle for stroking her face.

She doesn’t pull away, but she shakes her head. “I swore an oath, Vane.”

“Screw the oath.” I lean in until I feel her breath against my face, then stop. I don’t want to rush her. “You’ve done enough for them. You’re protecting me. Who cares about the rest?”

“I do.” She closes her eyes, and her jaw quivers. “I swore to get you safely through this—and I will. And then you’ll return with the Gales and meet your betrothed.”

“They can take their betrothal and shove it. I want you.”

I lean in more, until there’s barely an inch separating us. I don’t know if she’s right about the bonding thing, but I actually wouldn’t mind bonding myself to her. In some ways, I feel like I already have.

She sucks in a shaky breath and I know. She wants this.

“No,” she shouts, shoving so hard I stumble halfway across the room. “My loyalty is to the Gales.”

She draws the windslicer, pointing it at my heart. “I mean it, Vane. I can’t do this. I won’t do this.”

“So, what, you’re going to stab me?”

She presses the point of the blade into my chest. Not enough to break the skin, but enough to sting.

“Don’t make me hurt you,” she begs.

“You already are.”

Her eyes turn glassy. But something about her posture—the strong set of her shoulders, the rigid line of her spine—tells me she won’t back down.

She’ll kick me aside. Pawn me off on some girl I’ve never met. All to please her stupid, useless army.

Her grip on the sword doesn’t waver. Her eyes look through me, not at me.

I’ve already lost her.

So I do the only thing I can do.

I run.





CHAPTER 32


AUDRA


I can’t breathe.

I feel like someone’s pressing on my chest, crushing the life and air out of me as I watch Vane race away. All warmth fades from my body, leaving me shivering under the hot desert sun.

I’ve made a lot of sacrifices in my life, but none hurt as much as what I’ve just done.

As soon as Vane’s out of sight, I collapse to the floor and curl into a ball.

Vane’s right. I do care. More than I ever can or will admit.

But the realization makes everything inside me squirm with revulsion.

Who am I to care for Vane Weston?

When he learns what I’ve done, he’ll loathe me as much as I loathe myself.

I cling to that harsh fact like a lifeline, pulling myself back into the hard, emotionless walls I’ve maintained for the last ten years.

Vane would never want me if he knew I’m the reason his parents are dead. I’m a selfish, callous creature who ruined everything because I chose to save Gavin’s life—a bird Vane hates. Then I lied to him about his memories being permanently lost, because I can’t bear the thought of him knowing I’m to blame.

And how would I have explained to the Gales if I bonded to Vane? Stole their king? With Vane’s potential for power, they want to make sure he’s bound to the royal line, so our people will have confidence in our world once again. Come out of hiding. Trust the Gales.

Plus, Solana’s a Southerly, and her bond will be a softening influence—should the power of four go to his head.

If I interfered with that, I’d be banished for such treason. Permanently branded a traitor.

No, it has to be this way. Even if my treacherous heart still scalds the inside of my chest.

I’ve burned so many different ways for Vane.

Guilt.

Desire.

But this is the worst.

The scorching heat of loss.

I dive into the pain, let the fire consume me. It’ll make me tougher. Stronger.

Water may have weakened my body—but it didn’t weaken my resolve.

It’s time to prove how strong I am.

I pull myself upright, squeezing my pendant with one hand. My other hand rubs my temples, easing the headache caused by my braid.

It took me months to master weaving the intricate style. The hair is divided into five equal sections, and the four outer strands are twisted and folded around the central strand, to represent the way our lives are inseparably bound to the four winds. Even the men wear a variation of the braid. It’s a physical display to show that we live not for ourselves, but for the service of the winds. The service of the guardians.

I’m a guardian.

My plans have been turned inside out and ripped to shreds, but my purpose holds true. And I will honor that purpose. With everything I have.