Let the Sky Fall (23 page)

“Yes, he was. And he went out with you a few nights ago. Did you have the girlfriend then, too, Vane?”

“Hey, I—” I start, not sure where I’m going with this.

“It’s a recent development,” Audra interrupts. Then she leans forward and strokes my face with her fingers.

Not playfully.

Possessively.

I don’t pull away. I might even lean into her hand as ten thousand sparks shoot through my skin at her touch. What can I say? I’m weak.

The difference between the way my body responds to Audra and to Hannah is night and day. Everything about them is night and day. Hannah’s blond hair and blue eyes are the sun to Audra’s dark-haired, dark-eyed night.

“I’d like to go home,” Hannah announces. Her voice sounds choked, like she’s seconds from crying.

She doesn’t deserve this.

I owe her the mother of all apologies. I just can’t figure out what to say.

She doesn’t wait for me to try. She doesn’t even wait for me let her out of the booth. She pulls her feet up on the bench and climbs onto the table. Plates and glasses rattle as she crosses to the edge and jumps, racing for the door as soon as she lands. Shelby shoves Isaac
out of the booth and chases after her—shooting me a death glare on her way out.

Isaac laughs. “Well, I gotta hand it to you, man. You find the most unbelievable ways to ruin dates.”

“I—”

He raises a hand. “I’m
dying
to hear what’s up, but I’d better take the girls home. See what kind of damage control we need.”

I nod and he turns to leave.

“By the way”—he turns back and points to Audra—“Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice.”

I wonder which one of us blushes brighter, me or Audra.

When Isaac’s out of sight, I force myself to meet Audra’s eyes.

“You went on a date?” she snaps. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Me?” All my anger races back. “I love how you think you can just throw on the ‘Vane’s girlfriend’ hat whenever it’s convenient for you. Jerk me around, screw up my life, then stomp on my feelings as soon as we’re alone. All to please your precious Gale Force.”

“We can’t have this conversation here.”

She stalks toward the exit, and I dig my wallet out and toss all the money I have on the table before I follow.

I figure Audra will be miles above me, flying home so she can rip me a new one the second I get there. But she stands against my car, her arms crossed, her eyes trying to bore holes into my skull. I’m just as furious with her, but my heart still skips a beat when I think of the long ride home, just the two of us.

She doesn’t look at me as I open the door for her. Just climbs in and slams it.

I know my car is small. But filled with me and Audra and the mountain of complicated emotions between us, it feels like a shoe box.

“Why aren’t we leaving?” she asks.

“You need to put on your seat belt. Or do you only follow the Gale’s laws?”

Her sigh is epic length. Then she fumbles with the seat belt for a hilarious amount of time, twisting it all kinds of wrong ways. “How does this infernal device work?” she finally asks.

I snort and lean across the seat.

She jerks away. “What are you doing?”

I lean closer, my eyes glued to hers as I take the seat belt from her hand and pull it across her body. My fingers brush her arm as I click it into place, and I hear her breath catch at my touch.

“Oh,” she mumbles as I back off.

I throw the car in reverse.

She watches the strip malls blur by, her fingers resting on the glass. I hit the button and roll down her window, grinning when she jumps.

The night is hot and sticky, but wind streams through the window and Audra stretches out her hand, waving her fingers in the breeze.

“Do you have any idea what you could have done tonight?” She doesn’t look at me, and her voice is hard to hear over the wind. But she doesn’t sound
as
angry.

I sigh. “I don’t buy the bonding thing.”

“That’s because you’ve never experienced it.”

“Have you?”

“Of course not.”

We stop at a red light and I turn to face her. “Then how do you know it’s not some story they made up to keep kids in line? Like parents lying to their kids about Santa Claus to make them be good all year? How do you know it’s true, if you’ve never kissed anyone?”

“Because I’ve seen the effect a bond has. My mother is still bonded to my father, even all these years after his death. She’s never recovered from the loss. And I doubt she ever will.”

Well, that’s . . . sad. But it doesn’t prove anything. “Human couples have that happen too—doesn’t mean they were bonded or whatever. And besides, I thought you said the bond ends at death.”

“It does.”

“So then, your mom might not be bonded at all. Maybe she just loved him.”

She doesn’t say anything. Just stares at the stars.

I have no idea what she’s thinking, but I’ve never seen her look so sad. I want to reach out and take her hand, but I know I can’t.

The light turns green and we start moving again.

“You didn’t answer my question. Do you have any idea what would’ve happened if you’d bonded yourself to that girl tonight?”

“No, but I’m guessing your army wouldn’t be too happy with me.”

“That’s putting it mildly. And you wouldn’t be the one they’d punish. I’d be the one dishonored.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

She lets out a slow sigh. “You don’t understand.”

“You’re right—I don’t.”

More silence. Then she whispers, “Honor is all I have left. The Gales. My oath. Take that away and I have nothing.”

She says it without any self-pity. But it makes me sorry for her anyway. I can’t imagine how lonely the last ten years have been for her, squatting in that crumbling shack.

“And that would only be the beginning,” she adds. “You’re our future king. They could rule my act as treason. Lock me so far underground the wind would be nothing more than a memory.”

“They would do that? Over a kiss?”

“Over a
bond
. Our betrothed king’s bond—one which has been very carefully arranged. Your life has to be handled in the best way possible, to benefit everyone. Including you.”

“Handled.”

“You have tremendous power, Vane. They want to make sure you don’t turn into another Raiden. Even as a Westerly, there’s no telling how the power of four will affect your mind. There aren’t any other Westerlies for them to pair you with, so they’ve chosen Solana. Her family was made up of the meekest, most humble of our kind—it’s the reason they were our royals. We chose rulers who would put the good of the masses above themselves. Who would be generous, kind, and fair. And bonding to her will enhance those qualities in you. Make you a good king.”

“But I don’t want to be king!”

“That doesn’t change who you are. And it won’t change the fact that part of my job is to make sure you don’t bond to anyone. So if you do, I’ll be held responsible. Maybe you don’t care what happens to me, but—”

“Of course I do.” The light ahead turns yellow and I slow to a
stop, grateful I can turn and face her again. “I care
a lot
about what happens to you.”

It’s more than I meant to say, and I have to look away.

She shifts in her seat. “Then promise me you’ll stay away from that girl.”

I laugh. “Pretty sure she’d kick me in the crotch if I showed up again. I’ll pass on that.”

“Other girls too, Vane. Even me.”

The last words are a whisper. Almost a plea.

I focus on the road as we start moving again.

“You’re meant to be with Solana,” she presses. “When you meet her, you’ll realize you’ve wasted all this precious time and energy trying to prevent the best thing that ever happened to you.”

There’s zero chance of that happening. But there’s no point arguing with her. For now.

“Fine,” I mumble.

She swallows several times before she speaks again. When she does, her voice sounds strained. “You won’t regret it. I promise.”

I’m not so sure about that.

But I am sure of one thing.

I’ve never felt
anything
like what I feel when I’m around Audra, and if I needed convincing, feeling the difference with Hannah tonight proved it.

Audra’s
the one
. My head knows it. My heart knows it. Even my senses know it.

So if I can only bond myself to one girl in my lifetime, I know who it will be.

CHAPTER 34

AUDRA

I
don’t want to leave the car.

Tucked in the private space, with the wind streaming through the window and the night draped around us, Vane and I reached a strange sort of truce. I can’t shake the feeling it will slip away as soon as I step outside.

Vane hesitates as he turns off the engine. Maybe he fears the same thing.

Then he opens his door and steps into the stuffy darkness.

I try to follow him, but I can’t figure out how to unlatch the absurd seat restraint. Thankfully, I find the switch before Vane opens my door to assist me—the last thing I need is another jolt of his strange heat.

“Do we still have to train tonight?” he asks, staring at his parents’ house instead of me.

He has so much left to learn. And we have so few days left. My eyes dart involuntarily to the sky, searching for traces of a storm.

The stars wink back at me, promising a calm night.

My mother must be keeping her promise. Otherwise, they’d have found us by now.

I need to make the best use of the extra time.

But I need to regroup. Figure out where we go from here.

“You haven’t checked in with your family all day. You should probably stay in tonight. We’ll get an early start tomorrow to make up for it.”

He nods. “Well . . . good night.”

I retreat to the grove before he can say anything further. On the way to my shelter I retrieve my jacket and windslicer from where I discarded them in my hasty flight. Both are covered in bugs and dirt. It’s like this place overruns everything, tainting it, smothering it, trying to ruin it. I won’t let it do that to me.

Gavin screeches from his perch on the windowsill when I stumble home. Poor bird has been severely neglected these last few days.

I stroke the feathers at the scruff of his neck and stare out the window. The moonlight’s bright enough that I can see my reflection in the cracked, dirty glass. I look pale. Dark shadows rim my eyes, and strands of hair have broken free of my braid, sticking out in wild, erratic tufts. Hardly attractive.

My mind flashes to the girl Vane was with tonight.

Soft blond hair.

Soft blue eyes.

Soft fingers twined around Vane’s hand.

He chose me.

The thought feels foreign.

But it’s also true.

The thrill that gives me is wrong for more reasons than I can count—but I feel it nonetheless.

My head aches from my tight braid, and it’s too much for my exhausted brain to handle tonight. I undo the careful knot at the end, letting my hair unweave, finally releasing the pressure. The dark, wavy strands settle around my face.

I will never be glamorous like my mother. I have too much of my father in me. His square jaw and narrow nose. The low arch of my brows.

Still, there’s something dark and mysterious about my reflection in the window. Something striking and powerful.

Is that enough to count as beautiful?

What does Vane see when he looks at me?

I turn away, tempted to punch the glass. I’m in the greatest danger of my life, and I’m playing with my hair and wondering if the boy I can’t have—and refuse to let myself want—thinks I’m pretty.

It’s time to get ahold of myself—now.

I reweave my hair into the braid, pulling the strands tighter than ever. If only I could wrangle my feelings as easily.

I can’t. So I’ll do the next best thing.

I slip into my jacket, unsheathe the windslicer, and stomp outside to the widest clearing in the grove. The still night is thick with the sounds of skittering rodents and chirping insects, and the warm air makes my clothes cling to my skin. But I don’t care.

I bend my knees, squatting into my starting posture. Two deep breaths bring me focus. Then I throw myself into my memorized exercises.

I slash and stab. Dip and spin. Race up the sides of trees and back-flip off. Dive toward the ground and somersault back up. Push my lithe muscles as hard as I can, ignoring the extra weight of the water, the extra burn in my limbs.

Sweat soaks my uniform and I pant for breath. Still I swipe and thrust, hacking leaves off the palms, slashing trunks, slicing the air with a surge of strength and speed.

This is who I am.

A fighter.

A guardian.

Stronger than Stormers.

Stronger than Vane.

Beyond all emotion.

I don’t give in to fear or pity or love. I’m the one in control.

The reminder fuels my weary body with an extra burst of energy, and I swing the blade with a vengeance. My thoughts vanish. My brain steps back, letting my limbs remember the motions on their own. Running on instinct.

My muscles throb, but the pain is liberating. Helps me clarify my purpose.

Vane needs to have the fourth breakthrough.

I can’t stand back and wait for it to happen. I have to trigger it myself.

But how?

My legs turn to rubber and I collapse to the sticky, date-covered ground. I reach for the nearest Easterly and pull it around me to help cool me down. And as I listen to its song I realize . . .

Wind.

Vane needs maximum Westerly exposure. The more winds bombarding him, the better chance there is he’ll find a way to breathe one in and let it settle into his consciousness. To
hear
it.

I may not be able to call the Westerlies to him.

But I can bring him to the Westerlies.

Tonight.

Now.

It will work. I have to believe it will work.

And if it doesn’t, I doubt anything else will.

CHAPTER 35

VANE

I
yawn for the ten zillionth time, shaking my head as my eyes blur from staring at the endless, empty stretch of freeway. I point the AC vent at my face to let the cold air jolt me awake.