Let the Storm Break (Sky Fall #2)(35)

“It’s not over,” I snap.

It’s not.

“And what do you mean, ‘pass up’? What do you know?”

“Nothing,” she insists. But her cheeks are too flushed and her voice is too squeaky.

“The Gales told you, didn’t they?”

I never told my parents about the betrothal—why would I? I ended it. But I always figured my mom would freak if she knew—get all ragey and protective and you can’t control my son! But apparently . . .

“Unbelievable. You talk to her for one night and suddenly you’re Team Solana?”

She spins around to face me. “I’m Team Vane. All I want is to see you smile again. But every day I watch you look more tired and stressed—and I know a big part of that is because she left. And I hate that. I hate seeing her hurt you.”

“She isn’t.”

We both know it’s a lie. But she goes back to making waffles.

A few minutes later Solana enters the room with dripping wet hair and the world’s skimpiest white dress. I think a tube sock might have covered her more—and I grin when I see my mom’s jaw drop.

How you liking Team Solana now?

Solana tugs at the thin fabric, pulling it a fraction of an inch down her suntanned thigh. “It’s because of my gift.”

“What?” my mom and I both ask at the same time.

Solana gestures to her skimpy dress, and I have to force my eyes to not linger.

Again, why does she have to be hot?

“My body can store the wind if I let it. Sort of like a cache. And the Gales think it will help in the next battle, giving them an arsenal the Stormers can’t destroy, so I’m trying to gather as much as I can. Which means I need to have as much of my skin exposed as possible.”

I’m not sure what freaks my mom out more. The idea that wind is swirling around under Solana’s skin or talk of another battle.

Whatever it is, all she does is clear her throat and say, “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Solana mumbles, tucking her hair behind her ear and glancing at me.

I look away.

My mom pulls the first sugarwaffle out of the iron and puts it on a plate. “So how do you like your waffles, Solana?”

“Oh, um.” Solana stares at her feet. “I can’t eat anything either.” My mom’s smile fades and it’s hard not to smirk at her. Strike two for Solana.

“I’ll take everything on mine,” I tell my mom, sitting down at the table.

Solana fidgets for a second before she takes a seat across from me, and my mom says nothing as she hands me a plate heaped with so many berries and so much whipped cream I can barely see the waffle—exactly how I like it.

“I thought the not-eating thing was only for guardians?” I ask Solana before taking an enormous bite. It’s even better than I remember. Sweet and crunchy, but somehow melty like butter, too.

Solana stares hungrily at my waffle. “It is. But anything I eat takes up space that could hold more energy. And right now the Gales need all the extra wind we can get.”

“I guess,” I say, wondering what it feels like for her to have the wind constantly swirling inside her. “But couldn’t you—”

Frantic pounding on the door interrupts my question, and I run to answer it, with my mom hot on my heels.

Gus stands there, wide-eyed and out of breath. His hair is halfway unraveled from his braid and his uniform is soaked with sweat.

“You have to come with me,” he says, dragging Solana and me outside. “We’re under attack.”





CHAPTER 20


AUDRA





I

have to get inside that mountain.

I don’t care how dangerous it is, or how much the vanished winds and the screeching air warn of something indescribably evil.

Raiden is here.

I doubt Aston knew that Raiden would be making a rare excursion from his fortress, but this must be why the Easterlies dragged me here. And even if it’s just a lucky twist of chance, I have to take advantage of it.

This is not a time for caution.

This is a time to lay it all on the line.

I watch as Raiden leads his Stormers into the mountain, surprised that none of them remain outside to stand guard. It seems like a mistake—though I’m grateful they’ve made it. But then I remember that this is Raiden.

He’s not some prince who inherited the crown at birth. He fought for it, killed for it, clawed his way up from the bottom to become the most powerful Sylph alive.

He doesn’t need his Stormers to protect him. Only to do his dirty work.

Which makes me more determined than ever to take him down.

I can feel the worry in my Westerly shield, but I whisper for it to stay calm as I count the seconds, waiting until five hundred have passed before I dart out of my hiding place. I scan the basin as I run, half expecting a Stormer to jump out of the shadows. But when I reach the entrance it truly is empty. No signs of life except the fresh footprints on the ground.

All I have to do is follow them.

My head screams at me to abort—call for backup—or at least give myself more time to prepare. But I can’t risk losing this chance.

I reach up and unravel my braid, knowing it will be safer not to look like a Gale. Then I take a deep breath and step into the darkness.