Author: Shannon Messenger

Great—I’m allergic to violence. I’m sure Audra’s thrilled with that news.

Maybe I can fight it. I mean, sure, I don’t like violent movies or video games—but they don’t make me wig out like that. Maybe the fight will be the same way.

But those are fake, I tell myself. And this is horrifyingly real.

My head spins and I suck in air to try to clear it.

I have to get over this. Lives are at stake.

The innocent people in this valley.

Me.

Audra.

I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her alive. If that means taking out a Stormer or two, well . . . I’ll have to deal with that. Even if just thinking about it makes me nauseous.

“How did my parents handle the training?” I ask, hoping they knew some trick to be able to fight without throwing up.

Audra bites her lip and looks away.

I guess that means they didn’t do very well. I decide not to ask for the gory details. Especially since I’ve thought of a better question. “What were they like?”

“Your parents?”

“Yeah.” She’s been stubbornly secretive about my past, but she could at least tell me that. Maybe it would help trigger more memories tonight.

She sighs. “I wasn’t around them much. When my parents weren’t trying to train them, they kept all three of you inside, away from Raiden’s searchwinds, which were always so close on our trail.”

I have no idea what that means, but I guess it doesn’t matter.

“Your mom was always sneaking outside with you, though,” she adds, turning toward me. Her lips twist into a sad smile. “I used to watch you guys play together in the fields. She seemed like a great mom.”

“I wish I remembered her.” I’m surprised at how thick my voice sounds.

“I know,” she whispers.

There really isn’t anything else to say.

“Actually . . . ,” Audra says, jumping to her feet and heading to the corner of the house where her crappy bed of palm leaves is.

“What are you doing?” I ask, joining her as she starts rummaging around.

“Looking for something.”

My phone beeps and I pull it out of my pocket to check it. A text from Isaac, begging me to go out with him, Shelby, and Hannah tonight.

“Everything okay?” Audra asks as I text him back.

“Yeah. My friend’s just trying to convince me to go on a double date with Hannah tonight. I’m telling him thanks, but no thanks.”

“Good,” Audra says quietly.

My head snaps up. “Good?”

I definitely want clarification on that.

“Of course,” she says. “You need to train tonight.”

“Is that really the only reason?” I press, stepping closer. My phone buzzes and I shove it in my pocket. I’m not letting anything interrupt this conversation.

“What do you mean?” She tries to back away, but she’s standing in the only corner in her broken house and I’m blocking her escape.

Good. It’s high time Audra and I come to an understanding about whatever’s going on between us.

“I mean, are you sure there isn’t another reason you don’t want me going out with Hannah?” I lean closer, leaving only a foot of space between our faces.

She stares at the ground. “Actually, there is.”

My heart does an extra jump.

I step toward her, gently grabbing her waist to pull her to me.

She pushes me back. “What are you doing?”

She might as well have slapped me.

She shoves past me and stalks to the opposite end of the room. Her hands pull at the ends of her braid as she paces. “There’s something I haven’t told you. I didn’t know how you would react—and I didn’t want anything to interfere with your training.”

“And that would be?” I ask when she doesn’t continue. My voice shakes with the anger I’m trying to hold back.

Her sigh feels like it lasts an eternity. “You’re . . . not free, Vane.”

That’s . . . not what I was expecting. “What does that mean?”

“It means I can’t let you go on a date tonight—or any night.”

“What, there’s some law in your world that says Vane Weston isn’t allowed to date?”

“Sort of. Remember, Vane, you’re the last Westerly. You’re not like everyone else.”

This is seriously giving me a headache. And I’m about to ask what the freaking law actually says when a horrible thought occurs to me.

“That’s why you ruined my last date with Hannah, isn’t it?”

“Yes. And if you’d just left the restaurant and gone home like I’d tried to tell you, I wouldn’t have had to call the Northerly and brand it with our traces. We’d still be safe.”

“So, you’re telling me you risked our lives just to stop me from dating?”

She straightens, and her eyes blaze. “No. I called the flurry because I had to stop you from bonding to her—and I didn’t have time to think. I just reacted.”

There are so many things wrong with that, I don’t know where to start.

Actually, I do. “Bonding? What the hell does that mean?”

She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Kissing is different for our kind than it is for the groundlings. They do it for fun, like it means nothing. For us, a kiss sparks an actual, physical change. It creates a connection between the pair who kiss, bonding them together until death parts them. That’s why I’ve always stepped in to make sure you never got that far with any of the girls I found you with. I didn’t know what would happen if you bonded with a groundling, but I couldn’t risk letting any sort of attachment form.”

I put aside the whole a single kiss sealing your fate for the rest of your life thing for a second, because it’s way too weird and crazy to think about.

What does she mean she “stepped in” with the girls she found me with?

Oh. Crap.

“It was you. All my bad luck with girls. Drinks suddenly getting knocked over by the breeze and spilling on their clothes so they’d need to go home. Birds pooping on their heads.”

Every single one of those disasters was caused by birds or wind or something in the sky. All except the Great Farting Debacle. Unless . . .

“Oh my God—you made the farting sound that day I was at the Date Festival, didn’t you? You broke the wind somehow, made it sound like a fart, and framed me for it?”

She doesn’t deny it.

I laugh.

How can I not laugh at the insanity of it all? “Do you have any idea how much you’ve jacked up my life over the last few years?”

“I know it’s been hard, Vane. But I couldn’t explain what was going on until your mind was ready to understand your heritage, and you just had a breakthrough a few days ago. In the meantime, I was under strict orders from the Gale Force to make sure you didn’t bond to anyone.”

“Why does your army give a crap about my love life?”

“Trust me when I say you won’t mind once you meet Solana.”

Solana?

I have a feeling I don’t want to know the answer to this question, but I have to ask it anyway. “Who the hell is Solana?”

“Our former king’s heir—all that’s left of the royal line after Raiden destroyed it. She’ll be crowned queen when Raiden falls.”

“And what’s she got to do with me?”

I can tell she doesn’t want to answer just as much as I don’t want to hear it. But we’ve come too far now. So she closes her eyes and whispers. “You two are betrothed.”

The word hangs over us, practically casting a shadow.

I’m betrothed.

To some spoiled princess I’ve never met.

Too. Many. Emotions bubble inside.

Anger. Annoyance. Confusion. Frustration. Fear. Rebellion. Rage.

But one feels stronger than the others, and it takes me a second to identify it.

Hurt.

Takes me another second to figure out why. “And . . . you’re okay with that?”

She looks away. Refuses to meet my eyes. But she nods.

I know I probably should leave it at that, but I can’t stop myself. “What about us?”

She doesn’t say anything, and that spurs my courage. I move toward her, trapping her against the wall. “There’s something between us, Audra.” I grab her hand, letting the familiar sparks shoot through my skin. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel that.”

I’m not sure if I’m fueled by fear or want or just sheer desperation. But it’s cards-on-the-table time. I’ve dreamed of her for too long—wanted her for too long—to let her shove me away because her stupid army thinks they can arrange my life.

I know she feels something for me.

I know it.

“Stop thinking about what your army wants. They’re not here right now. It’s just you and me. And you want me,” I whisper. “I have to believe that. Because I want you, too.”

It’s hard to push the last words out. But it feels good to say them.

I reach up, trying to slide my fingers into her hair, but her braid’s too tightly woven. I settle for stroking her face.

She doesn’t pull away, but she shakes her head. “I swore an oath, Vane.”

“Screw the oath.” I lean in until I feel her breath against my face, then stop. I don’t want to rush her. “You’ve done enough for them. You’re protecting me. Who cares about the rest?”

“I do.” She closes her eyes, and her jaw quivers. “I swore to get you safely through this—and I will. And then you’ll return with the Gales and meet your betrothed.”

“They can take their betrothal and shove it. I want you.”

I lean in more, until there’s barely an inch separating us. I don’t know if she’s right about the bonding thing, but I actually wouldn’t mind bonding myself to her. In some ways, I feel like I already have.

She sucks in a shaky breath and I know. She wants this.

“No,” she shouts, shoving so hard I stumble halfway across the room. “My loyalty is to the Gales.”

She draws the windslicer, pointing it at my heart. “I mean it, Vane. I can’t do this. I won’t do this.”

“So, what, you’re going to stab me?”

She presses the point of the blade into my chest. Not enough to break the skin, but enough to sting.

“Don’t make me hurt you,” she begs.

“You already are.”

Her eyes turn glassy. But something about her posture—the strong set of her shoulders, the rigid line of her spine—tells me she won’t back down.

She’ll kick me aside. Pawn me off on some girl I’ve never met. All to please her stupid, useless army.

Her grip on the sword doesn’t waver. Her eyes look through me, not at me.

I’ve already lost her.

So I do the only thing I can do.

I run.

CHAPTER 32

AUDRA

I can’t breathe.

I feel like someone’s pressing on my chest, crushing the life and air out of me as I watch Vane race away. All warmth fades from my body, leaving me shivering under the hot desert sun.

I’ve made a lot of sacrifices in my life, but none hurt as much as what I’ve just done.

As soon as Vane’s out of sight, I collapse to the floor and curl into a ball.

Vane’s right. I do care. More than I ever can or will admit.

But the realization makes everything inside me squirm with revulsion.

Who am I to care for Vane Weston?

When he learns what I’ve done, he’ll loathe me as much as I loathe myself.

I cling to that harsh fact like a lifeline, pulling myself back into the hard, emotionless walls I’ve maintained for the last ten years.