He mutters something I don’t catch before he says, “I’ll escort you to Raiden.”
We walk in silence for several minutes, weaving through another tangle of corridors. Eventually I have to ask, “Why do you serve him?”
I don’t understand how someone who appears to possess a few shreds of decency could choose Raiden’s side over the Gales.
“The better question is: Why do you resist?” he asks. “Our people have been forced to the fringes of this world while the groundlings poison our sky. Raiden’s only trying to reclaim what should be ours.”
“Well, I guess that’s the difference between us. I want no part of whatever world Raiden claims.”
“Keep refusing to cooperate, and Raiden will grant that request.”
He ends the conversation there. But when we reach a narrow staircase, he tells me, “You’re not a fool, Audra. You’re not like the others I’ve delivered. Give yourself a chance to see the value of Raiden’s methods before you throw your life away.”
He doesn’t allow me to reply. Just pulls me to a rusty door at the top and gives the broken command to open the lock.
Please let Gus still be safe in his cell, I beg as I wade into the waist-high snow. The sky is the same dull gray, swirling with snowflakes that stick in my eyelashes while my teeth chatter as loud as my heartbeat.
The courtyard seems smaller.
Less wind—though I can hear soft chimes tinkling a quiet song.
Or maybe I’m imagining them.
I forget my name again and lose my grasp on anything I’m seeing. The dome of black metal we stop in front of seems familiar, but I can’t figure out what it is.
“She’s not good in the cold,” a voice says beside me.
A figure in white seems to melt out of the snow. “Yes, I’m noticing that.”
Someone drapes scratchy fabric across my shoulders, and as my head slowly clears, I realize I’m standing near a large birdcage housing two ravens. They eye me with a stern sort of wariness I’m not used to seeing from birds.
“If I’d known you were this weak,” Raiden says, “I would’ve given you warmer clothes.”
I should’ve guessed he’d be the figure in white at my side.
His cloak is feathered this time, plucked from soft, downy doves.
No wonder the ravens look wary.
“Of course, then I wouldn’t get to watch your lips tinge with blue,” Raiden says.
“You’re not the only one watching her lips,” the scarred Stormer mumbles.
He’s no longer wearing his jacket, and yet his huge, muscled arms show no sign of shivers.
Raiden’s eyes narrow. “You doubt my security?”
“Of course not, my liege.” The Stormer dips a deep bow.
Raiden waves his hand to dismiss him, and the Stormer turns to leave. But he only makes it a few steps before he pivots back and drops to one knee.
“Forgive my boldness,” he says, his words hasty and jumbled, “but I know you value whatever bond remains between her and the Westerly.” He pulls back my coat and points to the torn sleeve. “I’d hate anything to damage that connection. Or anyone.”
A bond can never form through force.
Still, the point gives Raiden pause.
“Tell Nalani she has a new charge,” he tells the Stormer. “And to bring an extra uniform to the dungeon.”
The Stormer stands and offers a salute, raising his arm straight in front of him and sweeping it toward his forehead in a wavy motion.
“I keep hoping you’ll prove to be worth all of this hassle,” Raiden says when we’re alone. “And yet I fear I’m setting myself up for another disappointment. Still . . .”
He reaches for my cheek, his fingers grazing the breeze of the Westerly instead of my skin.
I jerk back.
Raiden laughs. “You have many reasons to fear me, Audra—but that is not one of them.”
“Hard words to believe coming from the mouth of my torturer.”
“Ah, but you haven’t been tortured yet, have you?”
“Only because the wind protected me.”
“Is that what you think?” He laughs and reaches for my torn sleeve. “The wind can only do so much. Surely you realize that.”
Shame and rage burn my cheeks, and I refuse to meet his eyes, searching the courtyard for the source of the music I hear.
Small silver wind chimes dangle from the top of the birdcage, swaying in the gentle breeze.
“I see no reason to destroy you, Audra,” Raiden whispers. “Why else would I try your mother’s mind trick to interrogate you?”
“Do you think I only count what happens to me? Gus is—”
“Your friend is a separate matter,” Raiden interrupts. “He challenged my authority.”
I feel my lips smile as I remember that day in Death Valley. The look in Raiden’s eyes—the shock and fury after Gus’s wind spike hit its mark.
A teenager made him bleed in front of his army.
Proved he isn’t the invincible force he claims to be.
And I realize.
Gus will never get out of here alive.