“Raiden’s fortress is to the east,” Solana corrects.
“I know. But Os took all of our weapons. I keep a stash of replacements at my house.”
I’m not convinced that windslicers will do us any good against the power of pain, but I guess it would be pretty stupid to storm a fortress unarmed. And we already know my wind spikes aren’t very useful.
Arella’s directions take us over a forest of Joshua trees and end at a small, square house in the middle of an endless stretch of barren desert. It looks like the kind of place where a serial killer would hide, which . . . is pretty accurate.
I set us down in the shade of the only tree—a giant oak that should be dead, considering the dry ground all around it. The soft ringing of wind chimes fills the scorching air.
Arella gasps and races toward her house, staring up at the eaves where silver chimes dangle from an intricately carved blackbird. The melody feels haunting and sad as they ping against each other in the late morning breezes.
“Audra must’ve come here,” she whispers, reaching up and removing a black necklace that’s been tied around the bird’s neck. A silver feather pendant dangles from the cord, and I vaguely remember Audra tearing it off her mother’s neck after she realized her father’s death had been Arella’s fault all along.
“That belonged to Audra’s father.” I don’t say it like a question, but Arella nods anyway.
“I found it in the rubble after the storm.” She traces her fingers along the cord. “I’d been holding out hope, refusing to believe Liam was really gone. But then I saw the black, and—”
She chokes back a sob as she clasps the necklace around her neck.
“A guardian exhales a bit of their life force into their pendant,” Solana explains. “As long they’re still breathing, the cord is vivid blue. But once they return to the sky . . .”
Tears stream down Arella’s cheeks, but I stop myself from feeling sorry for her.
It was her fault.
Everything is.
My fingers find their way to the copper compass bracelet Audra gave me, the only thing I have left from my parents after Arella slaughtered them. The needle usually points west, but for the moment it’s just spinning and spinning.
“We need to keep moving,” I say, and Arella nods.
Before she goes inside, she takes down the wind chimes, bringing them with us as we follow her up the weathered porch steps.
I don’t really know what I was expecting Arella’s house to look like—but I definitely would’ve been less surprised by cobwebs and creepy chandeliers than I am by the sparse emptiness. Each room has a couple of pieces of worn, dusty furniture—and that’s it. The rest is bare walls and creaky floors and still, stuffy air. It’s barely better than the burned-down shack Audra squatted in on my parents’ property.
Arella hangs the wind chimes over a plain wooden table in the kitchen and disappears down the hall, promising to be right back.
“Is this where Audra lived?” Solana asks.
I’m honestly not sure, but I nod anyway. I don’t feel like admitting how little I know about the-girl-I-was-bonded-to-and-am-planning-to-bond-to-again.
But Audra didn’t like to talk about . . . well . . . almost everything. Especially when it came to her past.
Mental note: Ask more questions next time.
I’m studying the depressing rooms, trying to memorize every detail when Arella returns, carrying a silver scabbard and two windslicers.
She’s changed into clean black pants and a tank that probably used to fit better—but thanks to her days in the Maelstrom the fabric hangs off her scrawny shoulders and bunches in weird places.
She hands Solana one of the windslicers and straps the other to her belt.
She gives me the scabbard.
My hand shakes as I slide out the knife and stare at the blade molded from thousands of needles. It’s feather shaped, like a mini-windslicer, designed to shred drafts and skin alike—and there’s a tiny speck of dried red near the hilt.
I hand it back to her as the room starts to spin. “I can’t.”
“You have to,” Arella tells me. “There’s no point getting anywhere close to Raiden’s fortress if you’re not ready to kill.”
There’s that word again.
Kill.
I know I can’t avoid it forever. But I’m not sure how I’m going to get through it without shattering to a million pieces.
She’s right though.
If a Stormer spots us during our mission, there’s only one option.
I try to slip the scabbard into my boot, but it doesn’t fit—clearly I shouldn’t take weapon ideas from movies.
Solana shows me how to strap it to my belt.
“I also found this,” Arella says, holding up a silver instrument the size of her palm with cuplike ends dangling off some sort of pinwheel. She nudges it with her finger, making it spin with a soft creak.
“Is that one of the Stormers’ anemometers?” Solana asks, leaning closer.
“I stole it off one of them a while back,” Arella agrees. “Thought it might come in handy someday.”