“Come on, Audra,” I whisper, struggling to concentrate and keep my balance on the wobbly palm branches. “Give me something—I’m dying here.”
I push my senses as far as they can go, and, almost like she hears me—or the universe decides to finally cut me a freaking break—I actually feel something. A hint of warmth carried on a breeze that’s barely within my reach.
A Westerly.
It’s not her trace. I don’t actually know what it is.
But it’s there.
My voice shakes as I call the draft to my side, ordering it to fly slow and steady so the Gales won’t notice the movement. The warm tingling increases as the draft draws near—and when it finally sweeps to my side, I can feel it’s a weary wind, singing of a long journey and the burden it carries.
A whispered message from Audra.
Tears prick my eyes.
She finally reached out to me.
Maybe she’ll tell me where she is.
Maybe she’s actually coming home.
I hold my breath as the breeze unravels, releasing the words Audra wove inside.
Only two of them—and not the ones I’d been hoping for.
Not ones I even know how to understand.
I listen to the message over and over but it still won’t make any sense.
She could’ve told me anything in the world. And she chose to tell me: I’m sorry.
CHAPTER 16
AUDRA
You’ve been staring into space for a troubling amount of time now,” Aston says, snapping his fingers in front of my eyes. The drafts in the cave disappear, leaving us in still silence.
Aston sighs when I don’t say anything.
“I don’t see why you’re so upset. Just because a bond can be broken doesn’t mean it will be—and given that your little boyfriend didn’t hold any part of himself back, I don’t think you have to worry about him choosing freedom. Unless this is the chance you’ve been hoping for.”
“No!”
The word echoes off the cave walls, and I focus on the pull in my chest, hating to feel it fading now that Aston’s cut me off from the wind again.
My bond is the one thing that I thought no one could take away.
The Gales may not like it.
Vane may decide I don’t deserve it anymore.
But it’s supposed to be permanent.
If it can be broken, then . . .
I don’t even know how to finish that sentence.
“How?” I finally manage to ask. “How do you break a bond?”
“It depends. If you’re doing it yourself, it’s a bit like shifting. Your instincts guide you, and all you do is listen—and suffer through the pain. If someone else is doing it for you, well, I’ve never had the particular pleasure, but I’ve seen Raiden do it enough times to know that it’s . . . unpleasant.”
He gets up, barely leaving footprints in the sand as he moves to the cave’s entrance and stares out at the sky. The afternoon sun seeps through his wounds and I can’t help feeling sorry for him.
He’s the victim, not the villain.
“Let me go,” I whisper. “You know how it feels to be held against your will. Are you really going to do that to me?”
He stays quiet so long, the sun sinks beneath the ocean. It’s a dull blue-gray sunset that paints the whole world in shadow.
“Nice try,” Aston says when he finally turns back to me. “Appealing to my common decency is a clever play—I wasn’t expecting it. But you’re forgetting something.”
He snarls a word and the winds binding me tighten, digging into my skin.
“I have no decency.”
My bonds clamp even tighter, and I’m barely able to bite back my cry of pain. But I still don’t believe him.
He’s spared my life. Treated my wound.
There has to be a way to get through to him.
So I don’t struggle, suffering in silence as he wanders around the cave, gathering the tiny green crabs skittering across the rocks. He bundles them up in his cloak and carries them toward the entrance, where he barks a sharp word and a small pile of dried seaweed erupts into flames.
He tosses a handful of crabs into the fire and they thrash and flail for a few seconds before lying down to die.
“I’m sorry for losing my temper,” he says, reaching straight into the fire to snatch out the seared bodies. “Let’s not let it spoil our lovely dinner, shall we?”
He hisses a command that relaxes the winds binding me.
I try to move to a more comfortable position, but all I really manage is to shift my weight onto the rocks in my pocket, making them cut into my leg.
He approaches with a handful of roasted crabs, dangling one under my nose. “They taste better than they look.”
Somehow I doubt that. The tiny, scorched body looks like one of the spiders I used to find hiding in my bed of palm leaves.
But even if they taste like the cheeseburger Vane bought me on that crazy, indulgent day, I’d find a way to resist. I can’t have more ties to the earth. Not when any second Aston could call for my essence and crumble me to dust.
“I don’t eat,” I tell him.
“Ah yes, the guardian’s life of deprivation. How I do not miss those days.” He shoves the crab in his mouth, crunching on the spindly, blackened legs. “Another advantage to Raiden’s methods. No sacrifice required.”
“Unless you count destroying the wind and taking the lives of innocent people and losing your sanity.”
“Perhaps,” he agrees, crunching on another crab. He sits down across from me. “But I wonder if you’d be able to hold to your principles when they cost you something you love. Not your own life—I’ve seen enough to know that you care nothing for that. But what about loverboy? If Raiden gave you a choice: Ruin the wind or the king dies, which would you choose?”
“There’s always another option.”
“Believe me, Raiden is a master at controlling all the variables.” He points to the twenty-nine holes on his shoulder. “Pick!”
“But it’s not a logical comparison. Of course I’d save Vane—he’s the last Westerly. Keeping him alive saves everyone.”
“Interesting.”
He hisses something that snuffs out the fire, leaving us in the dark. My eyes slowly adjust to the dim light and I can see him watching me as he finishes his dinner. But he says nothing else.
Eventually I give in and ask, “Why is it interesting?”
“Many reasons. But mainly because you seem blindly ignorant to the fact that you know Westerly. So you’re just as capable of saving everyone as he is.”
“I . . .”
I can’t believe he’s right.
And I want to argue that Vane is still more powerful because Westerly is his biological heritage. But . . . he’s also known about his heritage for only a few weeks. Meanwhile I have a lifetime of knowledge—plus a decade of training in the other winds.
“I can tell I just blew your mind,” Aston says, laughing as he swallows the last crab whole. “Though what I find even more intriguing is that here you are—one of the only two people in the entire world who’s capable of harnessing the power of four. And you’re tied to a rock, completely at my mercy.”
Shame makes my face burn.
“It’s not your fault,” he adds quietly. “No one could’ve beaten me. That’s what I keep trying to tell you. The Gales can’t win—even with the power of four. You’re all forgetting that for six years Raiden believed Vane was dead and that the fourth language was lost. Do you think he just sat back on his laurels, pouting because he’d missed his chance? Or do you think he found a better way?”