“What does that mean?” Vane asks.
“It means he’s asking for a change of location,” Os tells him.
“Yeah, I got that,” Vane says. “But where?”
“He doesn’t specify,” my mother says, checking the feathers again. “But based on what I feel in his wind, I’d guess you’ll be traveling several hundred miles south.”
“Oklahoma,” Os whispers. “That’s where it has to be. He spent most of his childhood there.”
“And judging by his message,” Aston adds, “I’d wager it’s also where his sister died.”
The words settle in, each one a cold, jagged stone.
“So . . . we have to go, right?” Vane asks. “The wind is still giving me the same advice.”
“You do realize it sounds like Raiden doesn’t expect to survive this little meeting, don’t you?” Aston asks. “In which case, it’s unlikely he’s still hoping to collect your power.”
The same worries thunder through my mind, mixed with the sound of Raiden’s laughter.
“But isn’t that a good thing?” Vane asks. “It means even he knows he can’t win.”
“Never underestimate the desperation of a trapped animal,” Os reminds him.
“Sinking ship mentality,” Aston agrees. “If he has to go, he’ll take the precious ones with him.”
“Then wouldn’t he ask for Audra to come too?” Vane asks.
“He knows you’ll never bring her near him,” Os says. “The fact that you excluded her from the original plan made that clear.”
“Or he has other plans for her,” Aston warns.
“You can speculate all day,” my mother tells them. “And never be any closer to the answer. Raiden’s a Northern squall. You can’t predict him. You can only battle the storm.”
“But they’re not battling the storm,” Os argues. “They’re letting it lead them blindly to the slaughter.”
“I think I’ve lost track of the metaphor,” Vane mumbles.
His hand shakes as he pulls it away from mine and holds up the whistlepipe. “But we should be safe as long as I still have this. He clearly wants it back. So I’ll shield it with Westerlies so he can’t tell if I’m carrying it, and use that to stall him while we wait for the wind to tell us how to end him.”
I can see dozens of flaws with that plan.
Hundreds.
Thousands.
But I also see no other option.
“We should probably get going,” Solana says, sounding far more enthusiastic than I can ever imagine feeling. “Every second we delay gives him more time to prepare.”
“And what about your preparations?” Os asks. “You haven’t discussed a single strategy. You haven’t gathered any weapons. All you’ve done is end your betrothal and waste time on vulgar public displays of affection.”
“Best decision ever,” Vane says, grinning at me. “And come on, Os. We all know we’re not going to take Raiden out with a windslicer or a wind spike—in fact, if we tried that, we’d just get destroyed by his creepy backlash thing. So screw planning—that’s Raiden’s trick. And it’s all an illusion. Time and again we’ve proven that no matter how hard he tries, he can’t control the wind. All we have to do is keep trusting the sky.”
“Keep in mind that the wind doesn’t actually care whether you live or die,” Aston warns him. “It’s very clever. But that doesn’t mean it has compassion.”
I despise the words for being true.
And I despise the helplessness that pours over me as Solana gathers the fallen feathers and calls for Raiden’s wind.
Tears blur my eyes as Vane pulls me closer, turning us away from the crowd so it’s just him and me.
“This isn’t goodbye,” he tells me. “It’s ‘see you soon.’ Really soon. As fast as I can be there. And I need you to be careful in the meantime, okay?”
“I’m not the one we need to be worrying about,” I remind him.
“Hopefully not—but we both know I’m going to worry anyway. So promise me you’ll keep your guard up.”
“I always do.”
He grins and whispers, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” I breathe. “So you have to come back to me.”
“Like you could ever keep me away.”
“I worry you’re not taking this as seriously as you should be,” I whisper. “Raiden just killed hundreds of people. He’s up to something—”
“I know,” Vane interrupts. “Believe me, I’m very aware of how freaking scary what I’m about to do is. But I’m going to win, Audra. You know why? Because I have too much to live for.”
He leans and kisses me then, his lips tender and soft and sweet. It fills me with warm flutters—but it’s not the desperate rush I crave.
I know what he’s trying to show me.
He’s saving the rest for later.
Still, I take a little more for myself now, dragging him closer, parting his lips, breathing in his breath as he gasps to keep up with me.
This isn’t goodbye.
But it’s a reminder of how much I need him.
Someone clears their throat, and I finally let Vane break away.