All I have to do is shove him away and I’ll be free. But I’m afraid to touch him, to feel that strange heat spread through me. That would be more dangerous than meeting his eyes.
But I have to stop this.
I crinkle my nose. “Someone needs to hit the showers.”
He laughs. “I call that Eau de Vane. It’s my signature fragrance.”
“Well, it smells like something died.”
I duck under his arm and slip away, relieved when he doesn’t try to stop me. I’m not sure what to do about his . . . advances. He’s finally cooperating. I can’t afford to have that change if he feels rejected.
But I can’t give him what he wants. Even if I want to—which I don’t.
I don’t.
I rub my temples, trying to calm the headache flaring behind my eyes. I’m used to the pain—my regulation braid often pulls too tight. But this time my skull feels ready to crack from the strain.
“You should let your hair down,” Vane says, clearly watching me closer than I want him to.
“I never let my hair down.”
“You did yesterday.”
“Not by choice.” I turn away from his scrutiny, heading toward his house. “We can get back to training later. After you’ve had a chance to cool off.”
He laughs. “I’m not the one who looked hot and bothered earlier.”
I’m not current with groundling slang, but I’m fairly certain what he’s implying—and he’s wrong.
“Anyway,” I say, changing the subject—quickly. “I recommend taking a nap. We’ll be putting in a long night tonight.”
“Sounds good to me,” he says, his smile stretching wider.
I roll my eyes. “For training, Vane. We’ll tackle some of the harder skills tonight, when it’s dark and the winds pick up.”
“Looking forward to it.”
That makes one of us. Just when I start to enjoy his company, his annoying side returns.
Then again, being annoyed is far better than that fluttery, breathless feeling I keep getting. I need to cling to the irritation, store it away, in case any of those other emotions resurface.
His stomach growls again.
“Better eat something too.”
“What about you?”
“Me?”
“Yeah, want to grab breakfast or something?”
“What? No—I can’t eat.”
One muffled growl erupts from my stomach before I can stop it.
“But I thought you said the water already weakened you. And it’ll take months to get out of your system, right? So why starve yourself if the damage has already been done?”
I can’t believe he’d even suggest such a thing. Clearly, he’s a long way from understanding the type of self-discipline I adhere to.
He does have a tiny point, though—and I hate him for it. Hate myself for seeing it. Hate my stomach even more for growling again.
“Eating or drinking will only extend my days of weakness, something I cannot allow.”
“Suit yourself. But your stomach agrees with me,” he adds when a third growl erupts from my gut.
If I could rip the noisy organ from my body, I would. “That will pass.”
“I hope so. Otherwise, it’ll be like training with a growling kitten all night.”
I ignore him, and we walk in silence until we reach the edge of the date grove.
“We should both grab a few hours’ rest while we can. I’ll be back when the sun sets.”
“You don’t want to come in? Cool off for a bit?”
“Your family’s not supposed to see me.”
“Come on, you can’t hide forever.”
“I’ve hidden for ten years. Pretty sure I can manage a few more days.”
“Days?”
My hunger fades to nausea as I nod. “The Stormers will be here in eight days.”
His smile vanishes. “That’s, um . . . soon.”
Yes, it is. “We’ll be ready.”
He looks as skeptical as I feel. The Stormers will pick up our traces by this evening. Will my mother really be able to stall them as long as she claimed?
I glance at the sky, half-expecting to see dark clouds creeping over the mountains. But vivid blue stretches as far as I can see.
We’re safe. For now.
“And what happens after that?” he asks. “I mean . . . assuming we win and stuff, then what? ’Cause I’m guessing Raiden has more Stormers to send after me, right?”
Honestly, I don’t know. All the Gales’ plans centered around Vane having the Westerly breakthrough long before Raiden found us. I’m the one who screwed things up by giving away our location.
But I can salvage this. I have eight days to force the breakthrough. I’ll find a way.
I force my voice to sound more confident than I feel as I say, “Assuming everything goes according to plan, you’ll pose a far greater threat to Raiden than he’ll ever prove to you.”
“And if things don’t go according to plan?”
“Then the winds will tell the Gales what happened. They’ll come get you.”
My mother will know I made the sacrifice almost the second I surrender myself. My heart picks up speed, imagining scattered pieces of me spreading far and wide.
I push the thought away.
My mother will collect Vane. Take him to the Gales for protection. Tell them I failed.