Let The Wind Rise (Sky Fall, #3) (23 page)

I guess that makes sense, given what I know about Gus’s ability. And I know it shouldn’t bother me—at least not for the
reason
it bothers me. But my hands still curl up so tight, my nails cut into my palms.

“Want me to find Aston and see if he has any news on Arella?” Solana asks. “He won’t be able to come inside without drawing too much attention.”

Yeah, I can’t even imagine what would happen if he walked in here with all his holes.

“It can wait,” I tell her. “We should stay out of the wind as long as we can.”

Our eyes both drift back to Audra.

“Go,” Solana tells me. “She needs you,”

She needs
someone
.

But I’m not sure if it’s me anymore.

“Seriously, Vane,” Solana says, “don’t overthink it.”

I try to breathe the words in, but they feel too raw and scratchy in my chest.

“How bad do you think her wounds are under that jacket?” I whisper.

Solana bites her lip. “I don’t know. After Gus . . .”

My stomach sloshes with a fresh wave of bile as Solana soaks a stack of paper towels and hands them to me. “If you need any help, just ask.”

I give myself three deep breaths. Then I make my way over to the chair.

“Hey,” I say, crouching in front of Audra.

She doesn’t blink.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here. Shake her? Wait for smelling salts?

I settle for taking her hands, surprised at how much heat sparks at her touch.

“There you are,” I whisper when her eyes slowly clear.

She turns to scan the room.

“We’re in a hotel,” I tell her. “They’re letting us use their bathroom, and they’re hopefully getting us new clothes and bandages. Do you need water or something? I know you don’t like to drink or eat, but—”

Audra shakes her head. “My mother?”

It’s such a relief to hear her voice, I have to resist the urge to throw my arms around her.

I brush the hair out of her eyes, instead. “I don’t know. But Solana doesn’t feel an echo.”

She looks just as torn by the news as I feel.

I’m trying to think of something brilliant and healing to say. Best I can come up with is: “Can I check your wounds?”

“I’ll be gentle, I promise,” I add when she flinches.

“It’s not that. I . . . don’t want you to see.”

Oh.

My face burns as I remember what I’ve learned about sylphs and underwear. I’m guessing that applies to bras and stuff too . . .

“I can turn away while you take off your jacket,” I tell her. “And then you can use it to cover your, um . . . you know.”

“I didn’t mean
that
,” she says, and I’m pretty sure she’s blushing.

My smile dies really quick when she says, “I don’t want you to see what he did to me.”

Fury lumps up in my throat, and it’s not easy to choke it down. It’s even harder to find the words to explain what I’m feeling.

“I hate him for hurting you, Audra. And I hate seeing you in pain. But . . . that’s it, okay? It’s not going to change anything. I’ll still . . .”

I stop myself from saying I’ll still love her.

I can’t tell if it’ll make things worse or better.

She swallows several times, then nods and starts unbuttoning her jacket.

“I’m going to turn away until you tell me it’s safe.”

I look toward the sink and find Solana watching us. She’s spinning the link on her wrist, but when we make eye contact, she goes back to cleaning the wound on her leg.

Audra takes her deepest breath yet as she tells me she’s ready.

I still need a few more seconds.

“Is it that bad?” she asks when I suck in a breath.

“No, it’s nothing like . . .” Probably better not to mention Gus.

There are only five cuts, and they’re not as deep as I’d feared.

But . . . they’re very
specific
.

“I know the cuts are a mark,” Audra says. “You don’t have to be afraid to tell me. What did he carve?”

I sigh and dab the three cuts on her right shoulder. “Right here, he carved a
W
. I’m guessing he wanted to mark you as a Westerly.”

She nods. “I suppose that’s fitting.” Her fingers tease the breeze still sliding over her skin. “It was my shield that triggered my breakthrough, if you’re wondering,” she whispers. “I didn’t even know what was happening at first. I thought I needed you there. But apparently not.”

I’m guessing she doesn’t mean the words to feel like a windslicer jab to my gut, but . . . they have that effect anyway.

“What else?” she asks, and it takes me a second to realize she’s gone back to wondering about her cuts.

I move to her left shoulder and dab the long, curved gash. “He carved his storm cloud over here. I’m guessing that was to brand you as
his.
”

Her hands curl into fists.

Mine are doing the same thing, wringing the red-stained water out of the paper towel I’m holding.

“And the last one?” she asks.

My fingers move to her lower back. “This one’s just a jagged line. But it’s the deepest. I think he wanted to hurt you.”

“Probably,” she mumbles. “But I still got off easy.”

“This isn’t
easy.
” My hands are shaking so hard, I nearly drop the paper towels.

I don’t want to ask my next question, but it has to be done. “Did he . . . I mean . . . are there any other wounds I should check? Or . . . did he . . .”

Nope. I can’t say it.

“There’s nothing else,” she says, focusing on the floor.

I turn away, so she won’t see the tears I’m blinking back. And that’s when I notice we’re not alone.

The blazer guy stands in the doorway holding two plastic first aid kits and a stack of clothing in his shaky hands.

His eyes are focused on the cuts on Audra’s back. “What happened to you guys?” he whispers. “Is it something we need to be prepared for?”

I’m guessing he’s imagining, like, serial killers or something.

If only it were that easy.

I could tell him the whole complicated truth. But I don’t have the time or the energy to make him believe me.

Plus, his question made me realize something way more important.

There are hundreds of people trapped in this hotel—and we’re putting all of them in danger just by being here.

“We’ll leave as soon as we’re done cleaning up,” I tell him as Solana takes the supplies. “And once we’re gone, you need to bar the doors. Don’t let
anyone
go outside.”

“Why? What’s out there?”

“Just stay out of the wind. And when the storm clears in a few hours, get everyone out of here.”

“There’s no way it’ll clear up that soon,” he argues.

But he’s wrong.

It will.

I’m going to lure Raiden away from this mountain.

And then, I’m going to end this.

T
he groundling’s clothes feel strange against my skin.

Everything feels strange.

Especially when I check my reflection.

I look . . . normal.

A bit banged up, and definitely exhausted.

But still me, even in the tight groundling clothes.

If only I could
feel
like me.

I try to braid my hair, but lifting my arms pulls at the wounds on my back.

“Need help?” Solana offers.

I shake my head.

It’s not important.

I’m not really a guardian anymore.

I’m not sure what I am.

“Is it okay if I come in?” Vane calls through the door, and I feel my lips curl with half a smile.

He left us alone to get dressed in privacy, without our even asking.

“Yep, we’re all covered,” Solana says, fussing with the sleeves of her pale green coat.

Between that and the pants, it’s the most clothing I’ve ever seen her wear. And it makes my eyes linger on her face, which has such soft, sweet features it’s hard not to—

My thought drops away when Vane shuffles into the room.

He’s changed into dark pants and a shirt that doesn’t really count as a shirt at the moment, since he’s only managed to pull on a portion of one sleeve. The rest of the blue fabric is tangled and bunched between his neck and the thick bandage on his elbow, leaving his chest and stomach exposed and . . .

Wow
.

“Can I get a little help here?” he asks.

I’m wondering how many sit-ups he’s been doing when Solana says, “I think I’ll let Audra handle this one.”

She smiles as she says it, but I hear the tight edge to her voice.

It makes me glance at Vane, wondering if he’s wishing she’d volunteered. It’s a crazy doubt, I know—but I can’t help feeling it.

Redness colors Vane’s cheeks, and he shrugs his free arm. But it’s the intensity of his eyes that makes my heart leap into my throat.

He’s focused only on me—his stare like a rope, pulling me closer.

“Getting dressed with a bum elbow is harder than it should be,” he says as I try to ease the tight fabric over his bandage. “Plus, I’m not sure if this shirt is really my size.”

It’s probably not.

Were his shoulders always this broad?

I have to lean closer to untangle a twist in his sleeve, and end up brushing my hand against his stomach.

Again.
Wow
.

I’m positive I’m blushing. And the air has turned tingly, making my head fuzzy.

I give his shirt a final tug to cover him, and the fabric suctions against his muscles like a second skin.

“Thanks,” Vane whispers, leaning so close his breath skips across my cheek.

His hair is damp and his face scrubbed clean, bringing back a hint of the boyishness I remember. But his features still look more angled and shadowed than they were.

These last few days have aged him.

My eyes wander back to his tight shirt without my telling them to, and I notice a necklace that must’ve been hidden by the bunched up fabric.

“You have a guardian pendant now?” I ask, sliding my finger across the blue cord.

“Actually, it’s yours,” he whispers. “Do you want it back?”

I shake my head.

I like knowing he has it. Somehow it makes the space between us feel smaller.

“Aston gave it to me,” he explains, “so I’d have a way to see you were still alive. I don’t know what I would’ve done . . .”

His voice catches then, and he clears his throat, his eyes glistening with tears.

My hand slides to where he’s clutching the silver feather pendant, and I wrap my fingers around his.

“I’m sorry I worried you,” I tell him.

“Are you seriously apologizing for Raiden capturing you? If anything, I . . .” He shakes his head and steps back, putting a gap between us. “Are you
really
okay?”

“I’m fine.”

I scratch at my sleeves, needing to keep my hands busy.

“Is your shirt itchy?” he asks.

I run my hands over the smooth purple fabric. “Actually, it’s too soft.”

My guardian uniform was coarse and heavy. Comfort makes me uncomfortable.

“Well, I feel like Captain America in this thing,” he says, pulling his shirt, trying to stretch it out. “Though I guess I wouldn’t mind if it turned me into a supersoldier.”

“You’re doing fine on your own,” Solana promises. “Plus, you have awesome backup.”

She smiles, but Vane’s lips stay straight and serious, and his eyes shift to the floor. “Actually I’ve been thinking about that—”

“Uh-uh,” Solana interrupts. “I’m seeing this through to the end.”

“So am I,” I tell him.

“Just hear me out,” Vane argues. “Aston can fly you to his cave and keep you safe—”

“I don’t want to be safe,” Solana tells him. “And I don’t need to be taken care of. You’ve seen me fight. You know I can handle myself. And whether you like it or not, you’re going to need my power.”

“What power?” I ask, realizing there’s an even better question. “How did you get us out of the oubliette?”

Vane and Solana share a look.

“Maybe we shouldn’t think about that right now,” Vane says.

“No, she might as well know.” Solana leans against the wall, trying to look confident. But her hands are twitching. “Just promise me you’ll hear me out before you judge me, okay?”

She waits for me to agree, then adds, “I . . . know how to use the power of pain.”

I fall back a step.

I can’t decide what bothers me more: That I never noticed? Or that they didn’t tell me.

“You knew?” I ask Vane. “How could you let her—”

“He hasn’t
let me
do anything,” Solana says. “It was my choice—and it saved all of our lives.”

“At what cost?” I demand.

“I haven’t ruined any winds, if that’s what you’re asking. All I’ve done is store drafts that have already been damaged, and draw them out when I need them.”

“That won’t stop the power from taking over,” I tell her.

“Yeah, I’ve been warned—a
lot
.” She shares another look with Vane, and I feel my stomach turn.

“You’re okay with this?” I ask him.

“Of course not.”

I’m calming a little. Until he says, “But . . .”

He sighs when he sees the look on my face. “Sometimes there isn’t a perfect solution—and I know what you’re thinking—”

“I don’t think you do.”

Westerlies are supposed to value peace above everything else.

Does he really trust Solana more than his own heritage?

“You didn’t let me finish explaining,” Solana reminds us. “I had a revelation when we were trapped in the oubliette—and it changed everything. I realized the power of pain feeds off my needs—and that’s an incredibly selfish process. So I thought, maybe that’s why it’s so destructive. It’s there to serve my every whim, of course that would be addictive. And I wondered what would happen if I focused on the needs of others instead. So I told myself that I didn’t care about me. I just wanted to get you guys out of there. I didn’t care if I had to be left behind, or sacrifice myself to save you, and I repeated it over and over until it felt true. When it was, the need came up with a command that blasted us out of there. And the power didn’t have as strong of an effect on me.”