Author: Shannon Messenger

I take a step away, jumping when my back meets solid stone. Honestly, this tiny structure only has pieces of walls; how did I let myself get trapped against one of them?

“That’s fine,” I say when I recover. “If you’re more comfortable with it.”

“I am,” he says. “Because it’s true.”

He puts his arms on either side of me, caging me between them. My heart slams against my chest so hard it feels like it will bruise me from the inside out.

All I have to do is shove him away and I’ll be free. But I’m afraid to touch him, to feel that strange heat spread through me. That would be more dangerous than meeting his eyes.

But I have to stop this.

I crinkle my nose. “Someone needs to hit the showers.”

He laughs. “I call that Eau de Vane. It’s my signature fragrance.”

“Well, it smells like something died.”

I duck under his arm and slip away, relieved when he doesn’t try to stop me. I’m not sure what to do about his . . . advances. He’s finally cooperating. I can’t afford to have that change if he feels rejected.

But I can’t give him what he wants. Even if I want to—which I don’t.

I don’t.

I rub my temples, trying to calm the headache flaring behind my eyes. I’m used to the pain—my regulation braid often pulls too tight. But this time my skull feels ready to crack from the strain.

“You should let your hair down,” Vane says, clearly watching me closer than I want him to.

“I never let my hair down.”

“You did yesterday.”

“Not by choice.” I turn away from his scrutiny, heading toward his house. “We can get back to training later. After you’ve had a chance to cool off.”

He laughs. “I’m not the one who looked hot and bothered earlier.”

I’m not current with groundling slang, but I’m fairly certain what he’s implying—and he’s wrong.

“Anyway,” I say, changing the subject—quickly. “I recommend taking a nap. We’ll be putting in a long night tonight.”

“Sounds good to me,” he says, his smile stretching wider.

I roll my eyes. “For training, Vane. We’ll tackle some of the harder skills tonight, when it’s dark and the winds pick up.”

“Looking forward to it.”

That makes one of us. Just when I start to enjoy his company, his annoying side returns.

Then again, being annoyed is far better than that fluttery, breathless feeling I keep getting. I need to cling to the irritation, store it away, in case any of those other emotions resurface.

His stomach growls again.

“Better eat something too.”

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, want to grab breakfast or something?”

“What? No—I can’t eat.”

One muffled growl erupts from my stomach before I can stop it.

“But I thought you said the water already weakened you. And it’ll take months to get out of your system, right? So why starve yourself if the damage has already been done?”

I can’t believe he’d even suggest such a thing. Clearly, he’s a long way from understanding the type of self-discipline I adhere to.

He does have a tiny point, though—and I hate him for it. Hate myself for seeing it. Hate my stomach even more for growling again.

“Eating or drinking will only extend my days of weakness, something I cannot allow.”

“Suit yourself. But your stomach agrees with me,” he adds when a third growl erupts from my gut.

If I could rip the noisy organ from my body, I would. “That will pass.”

“I hope so. Otherwise, it’ll be like training with a growling kitten all night.”

I ignore him, and we walk in silence until we reach the edge of the date grove.

“We should both grab a few hours’ rest while we can. I’ll be back when the sun sets.”

“You don’t want to come in? Cool off for a bit?”

“Your family’s not supposed to see me.”

“Come on, you can’t hide forever.”

“I’ve hidden for ten years. Pretty sure I can manage a few more days.”

“Days?”

My hunger fades to nausea as I nod. “The Stormers will be here in eight days.”

His smile vanishes. “That’s, um . . . soon.”

Yes, it is. “We’ll be ready.”

He looks as skeptical as I feel. The Stormers will pick up our traces by this evening. Will my mother really be able to stall them as long as she claimed?

I glance at the sky, half-expecting to see dark clouds creeping over the mountains. But vivid blue stretches as far as I can see.

We’re safe. For now.

“And what happens after that?” he asks. “I mean . . . assuming we win and stuff, then what? ’Cause I’m guessing Raiden has more Stormers to send after me, right?”

Honestly, I don’t know. All the Gales’ plans centered around Vane having the Westerly breakthrough long before Raiden found us. I’m the one who screwed things up by giving away our location.

But I can salvage this. I have eight days to force the breakthrough. I’ll find a way.

I force my voice to sound more confident than I feel as I say, “Assuming everything goes according to plan, you’ll pose a far greater threat to Raiden than he’ll ever prove to you.”

“And if things don’t go according to plan?”

“Then the winds will tell the Gales what happened. They’ll come get you.”

My mother will know I made the sacrifice almost the second I surrender myself. My heart picks up speed, imagining scattered pieces of me spreading far and wide.

I push the thought away.

My mother will collect Vane. Take him to the Gales for protection. Tell them I failed.

“What about you?” he asks.

I look away, afraid he’ll see more on my face than I want him to. “All you need to know is that you’ll be safe. The Gales will take you to their fortress and train you to be ready to fight.”

“Whoa—hang on. So basically my options are: prisoner of Raiden or prisoner of your army? Please tell me there’s a secret option number three, because—no offense—those options suck.”

“No one is a prisoner of our army. And certainly not you. You’re our future king.”

He stops walking. “King? As in, a crown and a scepter and everyone calling me Your Majesty?”

“Not exactly. But yes, king. After you defeat Raiden, you’ll be given the throne.”

For a second he just stares at me. Then he laughs. “The throne? You guys have a throne?”

“Of course. We’re a scattered race, but we still have order. We still have laws and a ruler—or, we did, before Raiden usurped the kingship. But when we take our capital city back, you’ll be the one to restore the royal line. Everything’s already been arranged. We just need your help to overthrow the tyrant.”

He runs his hands through his hair. “That’s . . . crazy. I don’t know what to do with that. I don’t want to know what to do with that.”

“I know it’s a lot to take in, but this is the life you were meant to live.”

“I already have a life. What’s the plan for that, by the way? I just disappear in the middle of the night and my parents never see me again? What about school? What about my friends?”

“Those are . . . human things, Vane. They’ve only been a part of your life because we needed to keep you hidden. But the secret’s out. No matter what, you need to come back to your own kind. Put all the rest of this stuff behind you.”

“Stuff? You’re talking about everything I care about—you can’t expect me to just walk away from it all.”

I do expect that. Everyone expects that.

But there’s no point in saying that. He isn’t ready to hear it.

So I stand beside him, watching the heat waves swirl from the ground and listening to the dry desert breeze creak through the palms. It’s a Southerly, singing a slow, melancholy song. Vane can’t understand it, which is better. Southerlies are the sad winds, speaking of loss and unwanted change. Of the fleeting summer they’re always chasing.

The Gales worried that Vane would have a hard time adjusting when the time came to separate him from his “other life”—even with the bright future they’ve planned for him. But worry doesn’t change anything. Vane’s caught between two worlds, and the only way to fix that is to rip one away.

I know how much it will hurt him, though, when the time comes. I know how it feels to lose a parent.

Vane has already lost two. Now he’ll lose two more.

“Is there any other way?” he whispers.

There isn’t.

But he’s asking for a lifeline. And I know he needs it to get through the next few days. So I take his hand, touching him only to convince him—not because I want to—and say, “Maybe.”

Another lie shoved between us.

But it works. He squeezes my hand harder and looks at me with those striking eyes of his. “Let’s hope.”

Hope.

Such a funny, fickle thing. We need a lot of it right now.

“Yes, Vane,” I whisper. “Let’s hope.”

CHAPTER 15

VANE

My room is exactly the way I left it—no sign my parents noticed I was gone—and I can hear my mom watching some lame infotainment talk show thing in the living room, like she does every morning after my dad leaves for work. I sneak down the hall to the bathroom and turn on the shower to buy myself a few minutes before I have to see her.

I haven’t figured out what I’m going to say. It feels too weird. I feel too weird.

I knew they weren’t my biological family—and that never felt awkward before. But knowing I’m not even their species forms this, like, giant gap between us. I mean, what would they say if they knew their son’s a mythical creature?

Pretty sure they’d freak. And I can’t blame them.

I strip off my filthy clothes, coughing when I get a whiff of them. Audra’s right, my pits are hummin’.

My back aches from where she smashed me into the wall, and I feel the tender spot, where there’ll be a bruise later. More proof all of this is real.

It really is, isn’t it?

I’m not Vane, the unmotivated student who’s cursed around girls anymore.

I’m Vane Weston: The Last Westerly.

Great—it sounds like something out of an anime cartoon.

I jump in the shower and let the streams of hot water beat against my skin, calming the shiver that creeps up my spine as I think about the stories Audra shared. Or the evil-looking weapons the warriors will use when they come. Or what’ll happen if we lose.

I want to wash my fears away, let them swirl down the drain like the gritty sand the shampoo knocks loose from my hair. But it isn’t that simple.

The threat is coming whether I want it to or not. I have to face it head-on and hope Audra guides me through. Then I’ll find out if her army’s planning to take me away, expecting me to be their king.

I squeeze the soap so hard my fingers leave dents.

I’m not going to let this Gale Force control my life. I’ll stay and train and fight whatever these Stormer things are—but only because I have quite a few people in this valley who are worth protecting.

After that, I’m done. I have no interest in being a soldier or a ruler for a world I don’t even know. My life’s here. I won’t let anyone tear it apart, and there’s nothing Audra—or any of her little army friends—can do to stop me.

Shoot, if I’m as strong as she says I am—or will be with training—then there’s definitely no way they can tell me what to do. I’ll fight them all if I have to, and win.