CHAPTER 12

AUDRA

Raiden proposed to my mother.

The words flit around my mind, refusing to settle.

I know my mother’s beauty and power earned her attention from many men. And I know Raiden began his career as a high-ranking Gale.

But still.

The thought of them together makes me want to laugh—and throw up in my mouth.

“It was more about mutual advantage than desire,” Raiden says, though I notice he’s still stroking one of her ravens. “But when I see her fire in you, I can’t help mourning what we could’ve created.”

Now I really might throw up—and I silently thank my mother for marrying my father.

“You have too much of him in you,” Raiden says, as though he knows what I’m thinking. “But you still have her drive and ambition. Don’t squander it like your mother did. Give me one Westerly command, and you have my word that I will spare you through these final battles.”

His tone is surprisingly sincere.

But I know better than to be tempted.

Raiden’s a cyclone, snatching things up and hurling them back out when he’s finished.

Nothing survives his path.

“You think you’re so wise,” I say, too disgusted to hold back my anger. “You think you’re some brave leader destined to rule the world. But you’re just a fool shouting at the wind, trying to pretend he’s stronger.”

Gusts crackle around me, turning the song of the wind chimes deep and ominous.

“Well,” he says, turning slowly away from me. “Clearly I have my answer.”

He strokes the raven one final time.

Then he snaps its feathered neck.

The other raven shrieks and flies to the top of her cage. I can feel her fury and heartache wafting through the air.

Ravens mate for life.

She will mourn this loss until her final breath.

“Sentiment,” Raiden says as I bite back my tears. “Such a dangerous waste. Your mother proved that to me. And now I’ll prove it to you.”

He spins around, knocking me to the ground with his whip of winds—but once again my Westerly spares me most of the pain.

“The wind won’t shield you from blades. Did you think I’d forgotten?” His whip cracks against my side, right where his windslicer left its jagged gash. “You think it’s fear you’re feeling—but it’s doubt. Your essence knows this isn’t your fight. You’re an Easterly. Your winds are survivors. But it’s too late to change your mind.”

He drags me to my feet and presses his knife against my right shoulder. The needled blade slices through my coat as though the thick fabric were made of air.

“One word,” he tells me. “One word of Westerly.”

I focus on the lonely raven, crying for the loss of her companion. “There’s nothing you can do to me that will ever make me help you.”

Pain stings me then.

And again.

And once more.

“No tears,” he says, and I can’t tell if he’s livid or impressed. “Don’t worry—they’ll come.” His breath is humid in my ear as he whispers, “My winds tell me your precious Westerly is on his way. He’ll be here tonight. Then the real fun begins.”

I feel another sting, on my left shoulder this time. Longer than the other, but I’m too dazed to react.

Vane came after me.

The thought cuts deeper than Raiden’s blade as he slices me again, across the lower part of my back.

“That’s enough for now,” he says, sheathing the knife. “Can’t have you losing too much blood. I want you awake when I tear your love apart piece by piece.”

“I thought you wanted his power.”

“That’s how I’ll get it. You share another thing with your mother. You both crumble to protect your men.”

He drags me back to the dungeon, nearly dislocating my shoulder in the process.

A new Stormer is waiting for us there, a woman with black, angled hair. I assume she’s Nalani.

“The prisoner needs new clothes,” Raiden tells her, shoving me into her arms. “But do not treat her wounds. I want them to scar.”

Nalani nods.

“What about that one?” She points to Gus’s cell. “He doesn’t have long left. And he’s starting to smell.”

Raiden’s nose crinkles as he sniffs the air. “Put her in there with him. Let her watch his life drain away. And when he’s gone, bring me his body.”

He leaves us then, and my new guard shoves me into Gus’s cell and tosses a gray uniform at me.

Gus seems to be unconscious, but I still move away from his eye line and slip out of my tattered dress. Warm wetness coats my hands as I pull the scratchy jacket off, but the wounds feel shallow. And my Westerly shield is doing all it can to soothe them.

When I’ve changed, I check on Gus. His skin feels sticky and feverish, his breaths a soggy wheeze.

I shred the remains of my dress and bind as many of his wounds as I can.

“He’s bleeding on the inside,” Nalani tells me. “Nothing can fix that.”

Sobs burn in my throat and I choke them back, reminding myself that there’s a reason our medics only know how to set bones and patch wounds.

The wind is our lifeline.

Fresh air will bring Gus’s strength back.

And in his rage, Raiden just made a fatal error.

I roll Gus toward the wall, pretending to be moving him to cleaner ground. The new position gives me a chance to view the guide.

Gus’s rendering was accurate. I try to do the same as I scratch the marks into my leg and let my new pants cover the evidence. The guide still doesn’t make much sense—and I have no idea how to get us to the Shredder. But I have a plan to get Gus the wind he needs.

I prop Gus up, pretending I’m checking his breathing, and when his eyes slit open, I whisper in his ear, “If you can hear me, I need you to act like you’re in as much pain as possible.”

I can’t tell if his grunt is a yes.

But the screams that follow are agonizing—horrible bloodcurdling screeches as Gus thrashes and writhes, smearing more red across the floor.

“He needs air,” I shout, letting my panic leak into my voice. “Please—you have to take him aboveground.”

“You heard Raiden’s orders,” Nalani tells me.

Gus vomits. His legs and arms thrash, and I honestly have no idea if he’s acting or finally admitting how much pain he’s in.

“Please—he’s dying!”

“I think that’s the point.”

“But you don’t understand.” I sweep the tears off my cheeks and new ones immediately replace them. “He’s the important one.”

“What’s going on down here?” a familiar voice shouts, and the Stormer with the scars runs to the bars of my cell.

I reach for his arm. “My friend is dying. Please—you have to get us to the tower. Raiden would want you to.”

“Then why did he order me to let you watch him die?” Nalani asks.

“Because he doesn’t realize how important Gus is!” I hesitate then, warring over my next words, debating if the risk is too great.

Gus heaves again, making the decision for me.

“Gus is the one who can teach Raiden Westerly,” I whisper. “I taught him a command before I broke my bond.”

Nalani snorts. “How convenient.”

“It’s also true,” I say, focusing on the scarred Stormer as he weighs my words. “I can’t teach Raiden anything,” I tell him. “All of my knowledge is gone. And Vane will die faithful like all the other Westerlies. So if Gus slips away now, he takes Raiden’s last chance at learning the language.”

“And you’ve just decided to tell us this now?” he asks. “Now that your friend’s taking his final breaths?”

“That’s why I’m telling you!” I turn to Gus, and a sob shakes my shoulders when I see the red oozing from his lips. “I thought I’d be strong enough. But I can’t let him die. Not like this—not for a language that’s not even mine. Or his. It’s not our job to protect it. I’d teach Raiden right now if I could. But I can’t. Only Gus can.”

I can practically hear their minds chewing the words, deciding whether or not to swallow them.

I focus on the scarred Stormer and push where I know he’s vulnerable.

“What do you think Raiden will do when he finds out that Gus knew Westerly? I’ll tell him after Gus is gone—and I’ll tell him I told you before it was too late. Do you think he’ll reward you for blindly following his orders—or make you face the Shredder?”

Nalani grabs my throat. “You dare to threaten us?”

“I’ll do whatever I have to do to save him,” I rasp.

The scarred Stormer pulls her hand away, letting me breathe.

“Raiden needs to know,” he mumbles. “If there’s even the slightest chance . . .”

Nalani sighs. “We better get him to the tower cell, then. The boy doesn’t have long without the wind.”

The scarred Stormer nods, and his eyes focus on me.

For the first time I can see him as one of Raiden’s trained killers. Especially when he says, “If this is a trick, I’ll end you myself.”