Let The Wind Rise (Sky Fall, #3)

“And if he overpowers you,” Os argues, “he’d have everything he’s wanted. I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole reason he skipped this battle was to push us into taking such a risk. He wants us to believe him weak so he can prove himself strong.”


“It doesn’t matter,” Aston says, marching up to join the debate, with Solana right behind him. “If you want to make the puppy come, you have to offer it a treat.”

“Except the puppy is actually a wolf, ready to devour everything,” Os argues.

“Which is why we’ll be ready for him,” Audra says. “Vane and I both channel the power of four.”

“And that won’t be enough,” Os says. “You need the power of pain as well.”

They argue back and forth, and I know I should probably chime in—not that Audra can’t handle herself.

But Os’s points got me thinking about the lyrics to the winds’ song.

I check it a few more times, making sure I really have the right translation, because if I do . . . this is gonna be ugly.

The song seems to get louder as I listen, like the wind is cheering me on, encouraging me to make a big mess out of everything—which does seem to be the thing I’m best at.

Eventually I clear my throat and tell Arella, “Don’t send that bird yet. I need you to change the message.”

Cold sweat drips down my back, and I can’t look at Audra as I mumble, “We need to change Audra’s name to Solana.”





CHAPTER 46


AUDRA


Why her?”

It takes me a second to realize the petty question came from me. But now that I’ve asked, I need to hear the answer.

I turn to Vane, feeling very small as I add, “Do you truly trust her more than you trust me?”

“Of course not!” Vane reaches for my hands, but stops himself halfway. “Listen to the wind—tell me that line about peace and pain doesn’t mean what I think it means.”

I listen to the lyrics.

Then check them again.

And again.

“I feel the need to point out that I too know the power of pain,” Aston says, his smile making it clear how much he’s enjoying our awkwardness. “As does our captain here. And any of the Gales.”

“Yeah, but the song’s not about them,” Vane says. “Look at the other lyrics. We all know I haven’t always appreciated Solana, because of the way you guys tried to force us together. I bet that’s what it means about discovering my ally’s worth. Plus, she’s the one who got us out of Raiden’s oubliette. She’s also the one who learned the better way to harness the power of pain—though all of this is assuming you’re willing,” he tells Solana.

“Oh, I’m in,” she says. “I’ve been preparing for this my whole life.”

A fresh wave of envy ripples through me.

Especially when Vane adds, “I think this is how it should be. Solana and I are the only ones here who’ve had absolutely no choice about being involved in any of this. I’m here because I’m a Westerly, and Solana’s here because she’s part of the royal line. Both of us lost our families, and have had our entire lives controlled because of Raiden. This is our chance to take back our futures.”

It’s a very honest, well-reasoned, impassioned speech. But it doesn’t ease the queasiness in my stomach.

“If that’s what you want,” I say before I walk away.

Behind me, I hear Vane tell my mother to change the message. A second later the eagle takes off, soaring through the dusky sky in a bubble of Easterlies to fuel its speed.

With that many winds, I wouldn’t be surprised if it reaches Brezengarde within the hour.

I suppose that means I should be leaving too.

But I have nowhere to go.

No home.

No family.

No—

“Hey!” Vane calls, running to catch up with me. “Can we talk about this?”

When I keep walking, he jumps in front of me.

“Please, Audra. I know how this looks.”

“It doesn’t look like anything. You’re right, that is what the wind wants.”

“Riiiiiiiiight,” he says. “So then . . . why are you saying that through gritted teeth?”

I relax my jaw. “Just because I agree with it, doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

I try to weave around him, but he manages to block me.

“If you think I’m letting you leave like this, you’re crazy,” he says. “I’ll be super annoying if I have to—we both know I’m good at it. Wait, is that a smile?”

I hadn’t realized my lips had twisted.

“Please,” he says as my face falls back to a frown. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.” He sighs when I stay silent. “This isn’t you. You’re not like this.”

Shannon Messenger's books