Let the Storm Break (Sky Fall #2)(14)

The word “wife” throws me. I guess Audra will be my wife someday, given that we’re already bonded.

But that’s still a weird thought.

I try to picture Audra and me living in a house somewhere like normal people—though is that how normal sylphs live? All I’ve ever seen are the Gales, and my only childhood memories are from when we were on the run. I have no idea how it works for regular Windwalkers.

Of course, if I’m king, wouldn’t we be living in some sort of crazy wind palace?

Focus, Vane.

Psycho woman threatening you right now.

“If you think you can convince me to let you out of here, you’re a bigger idiot than I thought. So why don’t you skip the whole blackmailing thing and let me get some sleep?”

“You do look exhausted, Vane. When was the last time you slept?” “I don’t remember,” I admit, lying back down and rolling away.

She’s quiet for so long I start to drift off—or I must have because when she finally speaks it makes me jump.

“Is it nightmares or fantasies?”

The question is so spot-on I can’t help turning back to face her. “How did you know?”

“The winds told me many things about Raiden’s tricks. I’ve just never seen their effect.” She squints at me, and it’s like she’s staring into my brain. “It’s been nightmares mostly, hasn’t it? Though I’m sure the fantasies linger? And I bet I know what they were about.”

Okay, that’s just creepy.

“Stop acting like you know me.”

“But I do know you, Vane. We’re not as different as you’d like to believe. We both know how to break the rules and take risks when it comes to something we really want.”

“You realize you’re talking about murdering my parents, right?”

Does she really not get that I could order her execution if I wanted to?

Well, I think I could.

I could certainly try.

“I’m just trying to show you that I can help you. Whatever games Raiden’s playing. Whatever brought you down here, pale and weak and willing to be locked underground in this miserable place just so you can finally sleep. I can stop it. It’s my gift.”

I watch her rub the skin on her arms and hate myself for being a tiny bit curious.

If anyone could figure out how to block Raiden’s winds, it’s Arella. But she’s forgetting one key detail.

“So let’s say I actually believe that you’ve changed and are no longer the heartless, murdering psychopath we all know and hate. If I ship you back up to fresh air and put you to work protecting me, how long before the madness takes over again? How long before you’re back to scheming and betraying and not caring who gets hurt—or killed—in the process?”

“It wouldn’t be—”

“Yes, it would.”

I turn my back again—for real this time.

Still, I can’t quite tune her out as she tells me, “I can help you, Vane. I might be the only one who can.”





CHAPTER 10


AUDRA

I

’m not dead.

The water crashed over me, swallowing my air. And as I drifted with the waves I felt my consciousness slip away.

But here I am.

Still breathing.

Facedown on the soggy sand of an eerily silent cave.

Thick cords bind my arms to my sides, telling me I’m a hostage. But I feel no hint of my captor’s presence. Only a suffocating stillness in the air.

The entrance to the cave is unguarded—but I dare not try and run. My enemy has always been five steps ahead of me. This is just another part of their game.

I pull myself up, wincing as my bonds twist tighter. I can feel the sharp rocks still in my pockets, but given my attacker’s ghostly methods, I doubt they’ll ever get close enough for me to use them. Still, I twist and squirm as much as I can to bring one closer to my reach.

The cave is empty and unremarkable. Rough gray walls and dripping stalactites. No signs of life except the tiny green crabs skittering across the sand. No breeze except the rush of my own breath. My only clue to what I’m facing is the broad piece of seaweed coiled around my palm.

Cool tingles sink into the blisters underneath, easing the pain of my burn.

An unnecessary mercy, probably meant to soften me. See if they can coax my secrets instead of beating and breaking.

I shudder.

I’ve worked my whole life to protect the Westerly language, but I’ve never been so directly responsible for its safekeeping. I want to believe that I’m strong enough to stay silent. Willing to lay down my life like I was on the beach.

But Raiden’s a master interrogator.

Four years ago, he captured two of the Gales’ best guardians and tortured them for days, weeks—no one knows how long. All we know is that he broke them, finally learning that Vane is still alive. Am I really stronger than them?

The Westerlies resisted, I remind myself.

But then I think of Vane’s face, pale and tinged with green, ready to vomit or faint or worse. All because I’d told him that he might have to kill. The longing for peace flows so strongly through the Westerlies, it’s involuntary. Giving them an unending supply of courage. Unlimited strength to resist.

I’m an Easterly.