He sighs again, this time letting it rock his shoulders as he reaches up and plays with the ends of his braid. “It’s something I’d prefer to keep secret. But it’s the only place the wind can’t reach and the only place I can think of where you might be able to sleep.”
I yawn so wide it feels like my face is stretching. “Sleep sounds good—I vote for that.”
“You might not be so eager if you knew where you’ll be going. It’s a place I created for a much darker purpose.”
His voice has turned to the kind of hollow whisper you hear in horror movies when a character’s just seen a ghost.
“Uh, then thanks. I’ll pass. I’ll just do some more push-ups.”
“You can’t stay awake by sheer force of will, Vane—look what happened last night. You have to sleep. If you won’t give us the language we need to protect you, you will have to come with me. The choice is yours.”
Doesn’t sound like there’s much of a choice—but that’s probably the point. This is just another dare to try and force me into giving them what they want. And I’m not caving.
“Fine,” I tell him, throwing off my covers. “Let’s do this.Take me wherever you want—but there better be a soft bed.”
Os shakes his head. “I wish you would change your mind.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not going to.”
He closes his eyes, and his voice has that ghostly tone again when he says, “So be it. But you’ll need your walking shoes. We have a long journey ahead.”
CHAPTER 6
AUDRA
I
should be home by now.
I can’t tell where I am. Flying with the power of four turned the journey into a blur of color and light. But I can feel the sun directly
above me, telling me it’s midday, and I see no bright yellow desert on the horizon. Only the dark blue of the sea.
I command the drafts to slow so I can get my bearings, but they ignore me—and when I shout at them, they rush faster, spinning into a squall. The more I resist the more they tighten their grip, crushing me in their cyclone and dragging me far too fast toward the ground.
I have no idea what’s happening, but I curl into a ball and focus on the air brushing my skin. It’s not the same as wind, but it still fuels my strength and steadies my nerves. I let the energy build inside me until I feel ready to burst. Then I shove myself forward and launch out of the vortex, squinting in the bright sunlight.
A quick glance down tells me I’m high above the shore, but when I call a draft to catch me they all rebel and whisk away. Leaving me alone in my free fall.
I force myself to stay calm.
I cannot fly without wind, but I’m still a part of the sky. I can float like a feather on a breeze—I just have to hold still and trust that the air will carry me.
I stretch out flat, trying to keep my body flexible as I take slow, deep breaths and concentrate on the white puffy clouds. I wish I could sink into their softness, bury my face in their cool mist. Instead I drift with the currents, dipping and diving and swooping so much I can’t tell whether I’m falling or flying until I collide with the rocky sand.
It’s not a soft landing, and I can feel my cheek sting from where my skin met a splinter of driftwood
But I’m safe.
For now.
Something is wrong.
The wind always has a mind of its own, and sometimes it refuses to obey—but I’ve never seen every draft rebel. Some other force is at work. Something dark and powerful, if it could spook the winds that way.
I pull myself up and scan the shore, wincing as my muscles complain. The dark gray sand and white pieces of driftwood remind me of the beach I left hours ago.
In fact . . .
LET THE STORMS BREAK
I turn to the ocean, feeling my heart jump into my throat when I see the stacks of stone standing tall among the waves. The glaring sun shows a fifth peak that I couldn’t see under the moonlight. But the twisted shapes are unmistakable.
I never left.
I never moved.
All that time I thought I was flying, I was really just hovering in
the sky, spinning like a windmill rooted to the ground.
I have no idea what kind of command could bind me that way, but whoever gave it has to be here.
The beach is too empty.
No seals sunning themselves on the rocks.
No dolphins splashing in the waves.
Not even a single bird in the sky.
I reach for my windslicer, cursing myself for leaving it back at my old shelter. I was so focused on escaping my problems behind that I never considered that Raiden might come after me.
I should’ve known better.
He’s always trying to capture Gales to interrogate. And I’m Vane’s former guardian. He’d expect me to know all kinds of secrets about . . .
I sink to my knees as a horrifying thought hits me.
I know Westerly.
But no one knows that except Vane and—
No.
A few hours ago I shouted a Westerly call. If someone was watching . . .
My chest starts to burn and I realize I’ve stopped breathing— but how can I breathe?
I have the prize Raiden’s after, and I’ve basically hand delivered it to him, coming here with no weapons, no backup, no one even knowing where I am.
Bile rises in my throat, as bitter as my regrets. I choke it down and stand.
I’m a trained guardian.