She doesn’t look at me as I open the door for her. Just climbs in and slams it.
I know my car is small. But filled with me and Audra and the mountain of complicated emotions between us, it feels like a shoe box.
“Why aren’t we leaving?” she asks.
“You need to put on your seat belt. Or do you only follow the Gale’s laws?”
Her sigh is epic length. Then she fumbles with the seat belt for a hilarious amount of time, twisting it all kinds of wrong ways. “How does this infernal device work?” she finally asks.
I snort and lean across the seat.
She jerks away. “What are you doing?”
I lean closer, my eyes glued to hers as I take the seat belt from her hand and pull it across her body. My fingers brush her arm as I click it into place, and I hear her breath catch at my touch.
“Oh,” she mumbles as I back off.
I throw the car in reverse.
She watches the strip malls blur by, her fingers resting on the glass. I hit the button and roll down her window, grinning when she jumps.
The night is hot and sticky, but wind streams through the window and Audra stretches out her hand, waving her fingers in the breeze.
“Do you have any idea what you could have done tonight?” She doesn’t look at me, and her voice is hard to hear over the wind. But she doesn’t sound as angry.
I sigh. “I don’t buy the bonding thing.”
“That’s because you’ve never experienced it.”
“Have you?”
“Of course not.”
We stop at a red light and I turn to face her. “Then how do you know it’s not some story they made up to keep kids in line? Like parents lying to their kids about Santa Claus to make them be good all year? How do you know it’s true, if you’ve never kissed anyone?”
“Because I’ve seen the effect a bond has. My mother is still bonded to my father, even all these years after his death. She’s never recovered from the loss. And I doubt she ever will.”
Well, that’s . . . sad. But it doesn’t prove anything. “Human couples have that happen too—doesn’t mean they were bonded or whatever. And besides, I thought you said the bond ends at death.”
“It does.”
“So then, your mom might not be bonded at all. Maybe she just loved him.”
She doesn’t say anything. Just stares at the stars.
I have no idea what she’s thinking, but I’ve never seen her look so sad. I want to reach out and take her hand, but I know I can’t.
The light turns green and we start moving again.
“You didn’t answer my question. Do you have any idea what would’ve happened if you’d bonded yourself to that girl tonight?”
“No, but I’m guessing your army wouldn’t be too happy with me.”
“That’s putting it mildly. And you wouldn’t be the one they’d punish. I’d be the one dishonored.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.”
She lets out a slow sigh. “You don’t understand.”
“You’re right—I don’t.”
More silence. Then she whispers, “Honor is all I have left. The Gales. My oath. Take that away and I have nothing.”
She says it without any self-pity. But it makes me sorry for her anyway. I can’t imagine how lonely the last ten years have been for her, squatting in that crumbling shack.
“And that would only be the beginning,” she adds. “You’re our future king. They could rule my act as treason. Lock me so far underground the wind would be nothing more than a memory.”
“They would do that? Over a kiss?”
“Over a bond. Our betrothed king’s bond—one which has been very carefully arranged. Your life has to be handled in the best way possible, to benefit everyone. Including you.”
“Handled.”
“You have tremendous power, Vane. They want to make sure you don’t turn into another Raiden. Even as a Westerly, there’s no telling how the power of four will affect your mind. There aren’t any other Westerlies for them to pair you with, so they’ve chosen Solana. Her family was made up of the meekest, most humble of our kind—it’s the reason they were our royals. We chose rulers who would put the good of the masses above themselves. Who would be generous, kind, and fair. And bonding to her will enhance those qualities in you. Make you a good king.”
“But I don’t want to be king!”
“That doesn’t change who you are. And it won’t change the fact that part of my job is to make sure you don’t bond to anyone. So if you do, I’ll be held responsible. Maybe you don’t care what happens to me, but—”
“Of course I do.” The light ahead turns yellow and I slow to a stop, grateful I can turn and face her again. “I care a lot about what happens to you.”
It’s more than I meant to say, and I have to look away.
She shifts in her seat. “Then promise me you’ll stay away from that girl.”
I laugh. “Pretty sure she’d kick me in the crotch if I showed up again. I’ll pass on that.”
“Other girls too, Vane. Even me.”
The last words are a whisper. Almost a plea.