Let the Storm Break (Sky Fall #2)(19)

I may be bonded to the king, but I doubt the Gales will ever do

more than tolerate our connection. There’s still a chance I could be

charged with treason.

The thought makes me want to squirm, but the rope around

my waist is too restricting, cutting into my skin with every breath. I resist the urge to call a Northerly to sever it.

“I knew you were a clever girl,” Aston says, hissing a word that

makes a draft slice through my restraints. “And yet you still foolishly

believe your worthless army can stand against Raiden.”

“The Gales aren’t worthless.”

“Oh, but they are. Let me show you the many ways.” He calls an Easterly, using the command I’ve said thousands of

times over the years.

“You’ve been taught to give the wind a choice,” he says as a swift

wind streaks between us and coils into a small funnel. “You tell it to

come to you swiftly and you expect that it will. And most of the time it

does. But the draft still has a say. Which is why you will never truly be

in control.”

“I don’t need to be.”

“Really? It looked to me like you nearly died several times this

afternoon when the winds abandoned you.”

“But I’m still alive. And they only did that because you made

them.”

“Which is why the Gales will never win. You can’t beat someone who doesn’t play fair, and they aren’t willing to cross the line

between request and demand—most of them, at least. And if they

did, it would only destroy them.”

He points to the Easterly in front of me and I have a horrible

feeling I know what he’s going to do. I want to send the wind away—

save it before it’s too late. But I have to know Raiden’s secret. Aston snarls a harsh word I can’t understand, and the draft

howls. A deep, primal wail that shreds every part of me as I watch

the wind of heritage—my kin—stripped bare.

Everything good and pure crumbles away.

Its energy.

Its drive.

All that’s left is a pale, sickly gust that hovers lifelessly

between us.

Still.

Silent.

I feel a tear streak down my cheek.

Aston crouches in front of me and wipes it away.

“I wanted to strangle Raiden the first time I saw him do that,” he

whispers. “Wanted to beat him bloody until he understood the kind

of pain he just caused. And when he ordered me to learn the skill, I refused, not caring that he would punish me. I wasn’t going to turn

into a monster.”

“What changed?” I ask, unable to hide the anger in my voice. He laughs and slips his cloak off his left shoulder, running his

hand along a line of holes that trace his collarbone. They’re different from the small, jagged holes covering the rest of him. Perfectly

round—and twice as big. And they go through skin and bone. “He gave me one for each day I resisted. Twenty-nine in all. I

almost made it to thirty, but then he found a better way to break me.” He doesn’t explain further, and I decide not to push him. I

already know where the story ends.

“So why keep ruining the winds?” I ask, watching the sickly draft

groan and hover. “Why not—”

“Because breaking the winds breaks you. The power becomes a

craving, like . . . part of you dies and the only way to fill the emptiness

is to spoil everything around you. And you can’t fight it because you

don’t want to fight it, because then you’d never be able to experience

the rush again. It’s why the Gales can’t win, Audra. They can’t compete with this kind of ultimate control. And if they tried to embrace

it, they’d just be consumed by it.”

I stare at the sallow wind swirling between us, hating that he’s

right.

It would explain how Raiden commands such loyalty from his

Stormers. I’d always assumed they were fueled by fear or greed. But

maybe they’re also slaves to their bad choices.

“That’s why you never came back, isn’t it?” I whisper. “Why you

hid in a cave, let us all think you died?”

“Aston did die. This thing I’ve become”—he stares at his ruined

hands—“I’m not going to let anyone know it exists.”

There’s a darkness in his final words.

A warning.

I know what he’s going to tell me, but I still have to ask the question anyway.

“What about me?”

His lips curl into a smile, but it’s the coldest smile I’ve ever seen.

“We both know I enjoy your company. And if you ever try to leave,

I’ll kill you.”





CHAPTER 13


VANE

A rella’s lying.

She has to be. There’s no way Os would . . .

The thought stops cold as I remember what Os told me about hungry winds. And as I watch Arella rub her pale, sickly arms, I realize there’s a thin dust sweeping off her skin that I hadn’t noticed. It floats toward the walls like a sheer mist and disappears into the swirling sand.