“I know you’re powerful—”
“Power is not the point.” Her hand returns to her lap, and her fingers rub the blackbird on her golden cuff. “The wind tells me things—secrets that will save you from this mess you’ve made. The same secrets that would’ve saved your father’s life ten years ago, if you hadn’t lied to me.”
Her face blurs to a smear of colors as my eyes well with tears. She waits for me to say something. But I don’t have the words.
Eventually, she sighs. “I will buy you five more days.”
“Five days? How can you possibly be so precise?”
“If you could feel what I feel, you’d know.”
My nails prick my skin as my hands curl into fists.
She’s been using that same vague answer my entire life, demanding that everyone trust her blindly. This is too important for mysteries and secrets—regardless of how powerful she’s proven herself in the past.
But I know she won’t tell me anything more. It’s another game she plays. Always keeping the upper hand. So I say, “That still only gives me eight days. It won’t be enough.”
“It’ll have to be.”
“Vane has no skill. He’s only had one breakthrough—not even the important one. I’m not strong enough to fight two Stormers by myself anymore. If you won’t call the Gales, I’ll need your help.” I swallow, needing a second to choke down my pride. “Will you fight with me?”
The words are no louder than a breath.
Her fingers rub harder against the etched blackbird as she simply says, “No.”
She knows I wouldn’t ask unless I’m desperate. And still she denies me.
“The Gales need me to keep watch more than ever,” she explains, meeting my eyes. “I’ll be risking too much as it is by stalling them. Remember, Raiden’s been desperate to find me, ever since he learned I survived. That’s why I’m stuck in this hovel, cut off from the world.”
I laugh—but there’s no humor to it. “And you think the Gales value your life over Vane’s?”
“Of course not. But Vane has you as his guardian.”
“And I’m not strong enough to protect him—not with the water in my system. There’s no way I can do it alone.”
“I can think of a way.”
Her voice is hushed, but everything inside me still twists into knots. “Is that what you’re hoping for?”
“I’m hoping you’ll trigger his Westerly breakthrough before the Stormers arrive. That’s what you were supposed to do, years ago. The Gale Force chose you because they knew no one would push him harder in his training. They knew how much you had to prove. Or redeem.”
Redeem.
It’s the closest she’s come to admitting that she blames me for my father’s death, and a rebellious tear sneaks down my face before I can smear the others away.
“The Gales have been incredibly frustrated with how slow Vane’s progress has been,” she adds quietly. “So take this for what it is—proper motivation to show them that you are a guardian and can get Vane to live up to his potential. Prove them right for trusting you. But . . . if you should fail . . . there is another option.”
She doesn’t look at me when she says the last part, so I can’t study her face—not that it would tell me how to respond.
None of my training taught me what to say if my mother tells me to end my life. Especially since she sounds more like she’s warning me I might break a nail. Not die.
I fight back the flurry of anger and pain that swells inside me. Hadn’t I sworn—and planned for—this possibility when I accepted the role as Vane’s guardian?
I knew the risks. Better than anyone.
“I’m prepared to make the sacrifice if it’s necessary,” I whisper, surprised at how true the words feel.
Every breath I take is stolen from my father, so if it comes to that I’ll follow his lead and make the ultimate sacrifice.
If it comes to that.
If Vane can master all four languages in the next eight days, he’ll be undefeatable.
It’s a big if, but it’s still a possibility.
Otherwise, I’ll do what has to be done.
My mother clears her throat, almost like she’s battling back emotions of her own. But her face is the same unreadable mask she’s worn since the day my father left the earth. “I’ll send warning when I feel the Stormers arrive in the region,” she tells me.
I nod.
Trusting her goes against every instinct I have—but I’m out of options. All I can do is dive straight into Vane’s training and hope she delivers on her promise. I turn toward the door.
“I’ll need your windsong before you go,” she calls after me.
I freeze.
Every Windwalker is born with a song on their lips—a melody only they know. When we die, the tune becomes part of the wind. A small piece of us that carries on. Our mark on the world.