“We don’t ‘just do that,’ because it’s the ultimate sacrifice.”
The words slip out before I can stop them.
I feel him watching me, but I refuse to look at him—refuse to face whatever emotions he has written across his face. I don’t know what I want him to feel.
I don’t know how I feel.
“So if I’m understanding this right,” he says after a minute, “these Gales you worship so much—they’ve sent you on a death mission instead of providing reinforcements?”
“It’s not like that.”
“Really. Then what is it like, Audra? ’Cause it seems pretty clear to me. And it’s wrong. They can’t make you—expect you . . .”
His voice trails off, and I can’t help stealing a glimpse of his face.
My heart skips when I see the look in his ice-blue eyes. It’s been so long since anyone looked at me that way, I almost don’t recognize the sentiment.
He cares.
Vane Weston cares about me.
I blink the tears away before they can form.
It doesn’t change anything. “I’ve sworn an oath to protect you with my life, and I intend to keep it. No matter what.”
It’s a simple statement, but the effect it has on Vane is profound.
He steps closer. Close enough that I feel his warmth in the air. Closer than I should let him stand. “It’s not going to come to that,” he says, his voice more serious than I’ve ever heard it. “Trigger the breakthroughs. Whatever it takes.”
I swallow to find my voice. “You understand that the process is going to be very difficult.”
“Yes.”
“Painful, even.”
“I’ll . . . deal with it.”
Who is this boy and what did he do with Vane?
“You’re sure?”
He takes my hands, gently locking our fingers together. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Audra.”
I look away, battling back the explosion of emotions erupting inside me.
My palms tingle so hard from his touch, they practically throb. My burning, scorching guilt, punishing me for my newest crime.
I deserve it. I’m letting Vane risk everything to save me—and he has no idea I’m the one who destroyed his life.
I’ll never tell him, either. It would break his commitment to the mission. Get him captured and me killed, along with thousands of innocent people.
But that’s not the only reason.
Vane’s the first person since my father died to care whether I live and breathe. I can’t give that up.
The guilt burns hotter as I own up to my selfishness, but I bear the pain. It hurts less than the aching loneliness I’ve endured for the last ten years.
So I take a deep breath to clear my head. “You should probably sit down. This is going to be . . . intense.”
CHAPTER 21
VANE
Audra has me sit cross-legged on the pile of palm leaves on the floor, and they’re just as scratchy as they look. I can’t believe she sleeps on these things. She rattles off a long list of instructions I should probably be paying attention to—but I can’t focus. My brain’s stuck on auto repeat.
Intense. Intense. Intense.
I’m pretty sure what she means is intense pain—and I’m not exactly known for having a high tolerance for that.
At least Audra seems pretty impressed that I’m willing to do this to help her—which is crazy. Does she really think I want her to die to save me?
“Hug yourself tighter, Vane. Northerlies are incredibly aggressive winds.”
It’s hard not to groan. “Aggressive” is almost as bad as “dangerous.”
She adjusts my hands and arms, bending me into a Vane pretzel.
“You okay?” she asks when I jump at her touch.
“Yeah, sorry. Just jittery, I guess.”
Doesn’t she feel the way the sparks jolt between us? Now, that’s intense.
The waves of heat make their way to my heart, settling in like that’s where they belong. I know how cheesy that sounds—Isaac would hurl if he knew I was thinking it. But I like it. It feels like she’s becoming a part of me, more and more with every touch.
Makes me want to grab her, pull her against me, feel the warm rush spread as I run my hands down—
“Are you ready?” she asks, ripping me out of my fantasies.
“Yes.” I hate my voice for shaking.
“Okay. Let’s get the most painful part over with first.”
“Sounds awesome.”
Her lips twist into that small half smile she’s becoming famous for. “The only advice I can give you is to not fight back. I’ll command the winds to slip into your consciousness, but you have to breathe them in. Once the gusts are in there, you have to force yourself to concentrate. They’ll feel foreign and unwelcome and your head will probably throb. Just remember that your mind does know how to do this.”
“You kind of lost me at ‘throb,’ but I’ll do my best. Let’s just . . . get this over with.”