But maybe it won’t come to that.
Audra said there’s hope. I’ll try to believe her. Even if it felt like a lie.
She’s holding something back—I can see it in the careful way she chooses her words before she speaks. In the way she sometimes won’t meet my eyes. I have no idea what it is, but there has to be a way to wear her down, find out what she’s hiding.
While I’m at it, maybe I can get another glimpse of what she’s hiding under that crazy-thick jacket, too.
My mind wanders back to her skimpy dress, remembering the way it clung in all the right places. It should be a crime to cover a body like hers with that thick, bulky uniform she had on today.
In fact, if I ever become king Windwalker, my first act as ruler will be to institute a new wardrobe for the guardians and make Audra’s dress even tinier. That might be worth the life-changing responsibility.
Honestly, being with Audra makes the whole living-in-sylph-land-forever idea sound not so bad. I might be able to deal with it if I finally get to taste those full lips of hers. Undo that tight braid and run my hand through her silky hair as I move closer. Pressing every inch of her body against mine as she tangles her arms around me and slides her hands down my back, pulling me even closer . . .
I shove the handle of the faucet all the way to cold.
But even with the icy streams trickling down my skin, I can’t block the fantasy that never goes away—no matter how many times I’ve tried to resist it: That Audra’s out there right now. Wanting me as much as I want her.
CHAPTER 16
AUDRA
Air. I need air.
If I can’t satiate my hunger or quench my thirst, I need to give my skin the wind it begs for. Draw extra strength where I can.
The water sits too heavily in my weary, sleep-deprived body for me to fly to the mountains. So I weave my way to the unruly, overgrown center of the grove, where the trees are taller, with thicker leaves to provide better camouflage.
The air is still. I ignore Gavin’s taunting gaze as I choose the tallest tree and climb its slender trunk, careful not to cling too tightly to the crumbling bark. It’s a precarious job, and watching Gavin swoop to my intended location with a quick flutter of wings only makes it more arduous. But I eventually make my way to the top and nestle myself among the prickly leaves.
I close my eyes and feel for the winds. They’re whisking across the foothills, but still within my reach.
Soft whispers bring them closer and I swirl them around me. It’s tempting to strip off my jacket and let my hair down, but I refuse to remove any part of my uniform. It doesn’t matter how much the desert sun weighs on the dark, rough fabric or how much the braid pulls. It’s part of being a guardian. Part of who I am.
Bits of wind slip through the coarse fibers of my clothes, sweeping away the dirt and sweat and leaving me refreshed and clean. Nothing rivals the intoxicating relief of a gentle breeze. Not groundling foods or ice-cold water. Not even the thrill of skin meeting skin. The wind is part of who I am, and when I expose my heart to it, I feel it calling me home.
The wind is all I need.
Over the years, those words have become my mantra, making everything I’ve endured more bearable.
But they’re not the only thing lightening my heart.
Vane shows more promise than I expected—when he commits to his training, at least. And if he has the fourth breakthrough before the Stormers arrive, we can beat them despite being bound to the earth.
I wouldn’t have to sacrifice myself.
Which means there might be life for me after this assignment.
Maybe.
I squint through the blinding light, searching for any sign of the coming storm. All I find is the oppressive desert sun blazing down. For once I’m grateful to see it.
I’m trying to believe my mother’s out there, somehow buying us five extra days, like she can pluck the time from the sky.
What if she isn’t?
She’s cared so little for my safety the last ten years, treating me like a splinter in her skin. A stone in her shoe. What if she’s taking her chance to flick me away? Be rid of me for good?
I fling the doubts to the scattering breezes, let them wash far away.
It’s Vane’s safety she’s concerned with—and she would never hesitate to protect him.
Resentment rises in my chest and I choke it down.
Vane’s safety is my only concern as well. I can’t let myself forget that.
I settle deeper into the palm leaves, leaning my head against a nearby branch and focusing my mind on the solitary Easterly in the air. Its song is one I seek out whenever I can find it, telling of the shifting waves of change that affect us all, and the fortitude to keep going despite them. Mostly it’s a promise. A promise that things won’t always be so turbulent.
A promise of calm.
Sometimes I let myself believe it’s my father’s windsong, and that it seeks me out. Like a tiny part of him still watches over me, just like he did when he was alive.
Cling to the rock until the storm sweeps past, the wind sings through the air.
My father was my rock. My shelter. Warm arms that wrapped around me, shielding me from the tempests of my mother’s ever-shifting moods. The only place I felt truly safe.
Please keep me safe now, Dad.
I don’t dare say the wish out loud—but I think it all the same. And the silly fantasy feels more real than any promise my mother made for my protection.
But he’s not here.
She is.
I have to trust her.
I have to trust myself.
So I surrender to sleep, ready to recharge. Ready for the sweet dreams the song always brings, filled with memories of my father.
Instead, I dream of Vane. And the dream is anything but sweet.
CHAPTER 17
VANE
I emerge from the bathroom to the aroma of eggs and salty breakfast meat, and a burrito the size of a football waits for me at the kitchen table. Before I can stop myself, I rush to the couch and wrap my arms around my mom from behind.
“Whoa, what’s that for?” she asks, laughing.
“Breakfast.” It isn’t just because of that—but she doesn’t need to know I might only have eight days left with her.
Maybe eight days left to live.
I pull away before she can feel that I’m shaking.
“Well, it’s nearly lunchtime. I was half an hour from dragging your lazy butt out of bed when I heard the shower start.”
“I know. Guess I was tired.”
She must catch my hesitation because she spins around to study my face. I can almost feel her noticing my dark circles, wondering why I don’t look more rested. “You okay?”
I’m . . . not sure.
“Yeah, just starving.” My stomach growls for emphasis and my mom laughs.
“Better eat while it’s hot, then.”
She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I run across the room, practically drooling when I get a closer look at the burrito-y goodness. Bacon, eggs, avocado, and Tater Tots all smothered in pepperjack cheese and doused with hot sauce before getting wrapped in a gigantic tortilla and grilled on the stove. My dad calls it “the torpedo.”
They’re life-changingly good, and after a hard morning of training on an empty stomach, the first bite is pretty much the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. Isaac used to claim his mom’s homemade chorizo and egg burrito was better, but then he had a torpedo and was forever converted. Nothing tops it.
I finish the whole thing in five minutes flat, and even though it probably contained enough food to feed a small country, I want another. But hey, who knows how many more I’ll get to have?
My appetite dies with the depressing thought.
I have to get a grip.
I thank my mom for breakfast and duck back to my room, glad she doesn’t ask any more questions. I check the lock on my window—not that it seems capable of keeping Audra out—close the drapes, and collapse on my bed.
Next thing I know, the clock on my nightstand says it’s after four and my mom’s pounding on my door.
“Vane, phone.”
My door opens, and I squint through a triangle of sunlight that creeps across my face.
“You were sleeping?” my mom asks, her face falling into a frown. “I thought you were in here playing games or something.”
I pull myself up, still trying to gather my bearings. “I was tired.”
She scans my room as she hands me the phone, like she’s searching for the drugs I must be taking to cause my fatigue—not that I’ve ever messed with that stuff. I can’t even take a freaking aspirin.
“It’s Isaac,” she tells me.
I run my hand over my wild bed hair, trying to smooth it down before I press the phone to my ear. “Hey.”
“What the hell, man?” Isaac practically shouts on the other end. “First you crap out on Hannah hours before curfew, then you shut your phone off and ignore my calls all day? Don’t tell me the date was that bad.”
“Sorry, I forgot I turned my phone off. The date was fine.”
“Uh-huh. That’s not what I hear.”
“Why? What did Hannah say?” I hear the worry in my voice at the same time I realize my mom’s conveniently forgotten to leave me alone. I give her my Do you mind? look and she reluctantly closes my door behind her.
Isaac laughs. “Nothing, man. She just said she’d be in her room and left us alone. But it sounds like something happened. What’d you do this time? Don’t tell me you laid one in the middle of the date again.”
“No! And I told you that wasn’t me.”
“That’s not what Lauren told Shels. She said you guys were at the Date Festival and you must’ve eaten too many tamales or something ’cause you ripped one so loud it turned heads. Which usually I’d applaud you for, but, dude—not when you’re trying to make your move. She said it was right after you tried to hold her hand. Not the best timing, man.”
Freaking girls have to tell each other everything. “Lauren was just lying to cover up the fact that she farted.”
“Yeah, ’cause girls do that. Dude, I’ve been dating Shels for almost a year and she still hasn’t farted around me—even when my mom stuffs her full of beans and molé. But just take some Pepto before we leave tonight and you’ll be fine.”
I rack my brain for a brilliant insult to shut him up when I realize what he said. “Tonight? What’s tonight?”
“A movie with you, me, Hannah, and Shels.”
“I can’t.”
“Come on—it was Hannah’s idea, so whatever you did couldn’t have been that big of a turnoff.”
“I didn’t do anything!”
And that reminds me. Audra still has to explain why she ruined my date.
Maybe she was jealous.
Hmm. I like that idea. A lot.
“Dude, are you even listening to me?” Isaac asks.
“Uh, what?”
“I said we’ll pick you up at seven thirty.”
“I told you, I can’t. Sorry.”
I’m not sorry, though. Hannah’s a nice girl—and last night I thought she was what I wanted. I don’t anymore. Not when I have a shot with my dream girl.
Isaac half growls, half sighs. “Fine. But you better be spending the night with a hot girl, and she better be worth abandoning your best friend for. Otherwise, you owe me big-time.”
He’s so spot-on that all I can do is mumble something along the lines of, “Call—talk—later, haveagoodnightbye,” and hang up the phone.
Isaac’s right.
She better be worth all this hassle.
But Audra is.
Even though I know she’ll probably throw more bugs at my head and threaten my life and attack me with winds, I’m looking forward to whatever she has in store for me.
So I throw on fresh clothes, splash some water on my hair, and tell my mom I’m going out. I’m not waiting until sunset to see Audra again.