Let the Sky Fall (Sky Fall #1)(79)

“What?” Vane shouts, and I can’t help looking at him. “Your mother put you up to this?”

“No. It wasn’t—I’m not . . .” I send Gavin to find a perch so I can shove my stupid hair out of my face. The wind keeps blowing it in my eyes. “I’m not up for this conversation.”

He snorts. “Right. Enough said. In fact, I’ll make this really easy for you.”

He stalks away, and when he’s vanished into the darkness, my mother approaches me. Her face is painted with sympathy, but I know underneath it she’s probably thinking, Look how Audra screwed things up again.

“He’ll lick his wounds and get over it. No permanent harm done,” she tells me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

I shove her arm away. Even if she is sincere, she hasn’t earned the right to suddenly act like a loving mother.

And maybe she’s right—maybe it’s a good thing. But the thought of Vane moving on makes me physically ill. So does knowing he’s somewhere in the shadows, thinking I was only pretending to care.

“Been a rough few days?” my mother asks as I sink to the ground, resting my back against the cold base of a windmill.

“You could say that.”

“Well, unfortunately, it’s only going to get harder.” Her hand moves to her golden cuff, rubbing the intricate blackbird. “There’s another reason I’m here—I just didn’t want to say it in front of Vane. Didn’t want to worry him.”

Right. Only I get to worry.

I stare her down, refusing to ask a follow-up question. I’m tired of having her control the flow of our conversations.

She closes her eyes and reaches up, waving her hands through the air. “There’s something different about these Stormers. Something unnatural in the way they work. So much unrest in the winds.”

Pain seeps into her features and she doubles over, hugging her legs as her whole body shakes and a faint groan slips through her lips.

I’ve never seen the winds affect her so strongly, and by the time I realize I should probably try to steady her, shield her—like my father always did—she’s already straightened up. But her arms clutch her stomach like she might be sick.

“I don’t know what anything I’m feeling means,” she gasps through ragged breaths. “But I think it’s safe to say we’re in for quite a fight.”

“Then maybe I should use the emergency call.”

“No!” Her sharp tone echoes off the windmills, and her fingers resume rubbing the blackbird on her cuff, like she’s trying to calm herself before continuing. “The Gales can’t spare any guardians—how many times do I have to tell you? They’re spread too thin as it is. You have no idea.”

She starts to pace, moving in and out of shadows as she does. “I can’t believe Vane didn’t have the last breakthrough. You should have pushed him harder.”

“Any harder and he’d be dead. I forced three breakthroughs in twenty-four hours—and the winds almost drew him away. I brought him to the west and surrounded him with Westerlies. He even breathed part of one in—but it pulled him so deep into his consciousness he almost disappeared. I had to release his memories to bring him back.”

Gavin screeches as she runs over to me and grabs my shoulders. “You released his memories?”

I stare at her thin fingers cutting into my skin. Just like when I told her my father sent me his gift, all those years ago. “Why?”

Her lips part, then freeze. She lets go of me and turns away. “I just . . . always thought that was our last chance. That maybe his parents had taught him something that would help him find his heritage. But if you released his memories and he still didn’t have the breakthrough . . .”

Her voice fades away.

I rub my shoulders, trying to keep up with my mother’s erratically shifting moods. I’ve never seen her so unstable. She seems almost . . . lost. Fragile.

Gavin’s vivid eyes glint at me through the darkness. “Why did you bring him here?”

She turns to face me but doesn’t meet my eyes. “When I got your message, I followed your trace, but it led me to your home. I didn’t realize you’d been living in such a . . .”

“Hovel?” I finish when she doesn’t.

She nods. She looks at me then, and there’s something in her expression I’ve never seen before. Takes me a second to realize it’s pity.

Or maybe regret.

“You couldn’t find anywhere better?” she asks after a second.

I shrug. Honestly, I didn’t look. I didn’t need comfort. I needed to do my job.

She wrings her hands. “Well, I saw Gavin there, and . . . I thought maybe it was time to make peace.”

I have to lock my jaw to keep it from dropping.

I know the meaning of each and every word she said, but strung together and coming from my mother’s lips they might as well be a foreign language.

“Were you really prepared to make the sacrifice?” she whispers.

“I made my oath. I intend to keep it.”

She’s silent long enough to make me fidget, and her fingers rub so hard at her cuff I’m surprised bits of black don’t flake away.

“What?” I finally ask.

“Nothing. Just . . . you really are your father’s daughter.”