Author: Shannon Messenger

“I’ll only do it as a last resort. But I will make the sacrifice if need be. And there’s nothing you can say or do to stop me.”

My palms throb from squeezing the steering wheel so hard.

She’s wrong. There is something I can do to stop her.

I can have the fourth breakthrough.

I press harder on the gas, breaking the speed limit and not caring.

The Westerlies and I have a date. And I have no intention of screwing this one up.

CHAPTER 36

AUDRA

The salty air hits me as soon as I open the car door, as does a strong ocean wind singing in a language I can’t understand. A Westerly.

Vane parks near the beachfront, and we make our way across the empty parking lot toward the massive wooden structure stretching into the churning ocean. The Santa Monica Pier.

It’s almost four a.m., and the night is clear, the heavy winds sweeping away any fog or clouds. The amusement park in the center of the pier is mostly dark, a tangled maze of twisting lines and shapes rimmed with flashing blue and red lights, set against the black, starry sky. All the shops and restaurants are closed. The only things lit are the streetlights lining the railings along the edge of the pier. This place was built for large crowds, but right now it’s empty, save for a few fishermen sitting silently by their poles on the scattered benches.

The solitude is eerie. I feel exposed—vulnerable—as I struggle to keep up with Vane. He climbs the wooden stairway like a man on a mission.

As I step onto the pier the Westerlies pick up speed, filling my head with their unfamiliar song. It’s unsettling to be surrounded by winds I can’t understand. Like being mobbed by strangers.

But this place is familiar.

I’ve been here once before, a day I’ve buried deep in my memory with all the other things too painful to think about.

Crowds of people swarm around me, blocking my view of Vane and his brand-new family as they wander the pier.

My weary legs are tired of standing in the shadows as his parents buy him drippy swirls of ice cream and pink puffy candy and buckets of popcorn and put him on rides that make him flip and twist and spin.

Vane gets to have the perfect, happy life. I can only watch from a distance.

For the first time since I joined the Gales, I’m tempted to leave. Take a break from training to fight and kill. From mastering the winds. From shadowing Vane. Do something for me.

I stare at the seagulls gliding above the rippled water. They call to me, beg me to join them, and I can’t help wondering how long I could fly on my own. Would it be far enough to forget? Far enough to be free?

I step toward the rails.

Vane’s dad shouts for him to come along, and I obediently return to my duties. I follow them into the fancy building with the blue trim and the arched windows. The room echoes with music and conversation, and I watch Vane circle the carousel, selecting his favorite horse. He picks a gray stallion with a red saddle and a black mane.

I stop to stare at the familiar building, having to remind myself that it’s not nine years ago. The doors are locked and the windows are dark, but when I squint through the glass I can see the painted ponies staring at me with their lifeless eyes. And I can see the fortune-telling machine I’d hidden beside. The place I heard a voice so familiar it made my heart freeze.

“Audra.”

“Dad?” I scream, drawing far too much attention to myself and not caring in the slightest. I shove people out of my way, run up to every man I see, but none of them is him.

The carousel starts to spin and it feels like the rest of the world is spinning around me. The music plays louder, making it harder to hear. Harder to think. I can’t separate the voices, much less find the one I need. Several of the groundlings ask me what’s wrong, but I shove them away. I’ll be in big trouble with the Gales for making such a spectacle, but I don’t care. I have to find my dad. Tell him I’m sorry. Beg him to stay.

“Audra.”

I spin toward the sound and lock eyes with Vane as he rides past me. We only hold each other’s gaze for a few seconds, but it’s clear: He knows me.

I gasp as someone grabs my shoulder.

“Hey, easy,” Vane says, holding his hands palm out. Showing me he means no harm.

I clutch my chest, wishing I could reach inside and steady my hammering heart.

“What’s wrong? One second you were behind me, and then I find you here, pressed up against the glass, white as a ghost.”

“You saw me that day.”

“What?”

After Vane saw me, my father’s voice disappeared. I didn’t know if part of him was really there or if it was all some big mistake, but I did remember that I’d promised him I would take care of Vane. I never let myself forget that again. And I never let myself think about that day or wonder what it meant. Which is probably why I missed the most important part of the memory.

“Nine years ago, you came here with your family,” I remind him. “I followed you to keep an eye on you. And while you were riding the carousel, you saw me in the crowd, and you knew me.”

He shouldn’t have known me.

I was supposed to be erased.

He stares into space and a slow grin spreads across his lips. “I forgot about that. That was the first time I started to think you were real. I wanted to jump off the carousel and find you, but my mom had her arms wrapped around me. And by the time the ride was over, you were gone. I figured I must’ve imagined seeing you.”

A few seconds of silence pass as I digest that.

“So, how does it work?” he asks. “How did you make me dream about you every night?”

“You dream about me?”

The idea stirs such a mix of hot and cold I don’t know which sensation to settle on.

“That’s how I recognized you.” He keeps his voice low as a fisherman passes us, whistling a tune that feels far too cheerful for the moment. “I’ve dreamed about you almost every night for as long as I can remember.”

I never realized. I’d assumed he only recognized me from the few times I’d revealed myself. But if he’s dreaming about me . . .

There’s only one way that could be possible. His mind would have to separate my voice from the whisper of the wind. We can do that with the people we care about. Like how I’d dream about my father after he sent me his lullabies.

But . . . how could Vane care about me? Before his memories were erased, he barely knew me. And in order to find my voice on the wind and attach it to my memory—a memory he should have forgotten?

He’d have to love me.

“Are you sure it’s me?” I ask, grasping for some other explanation.

“Trust me, it’s you.”

There are dozens of different ways to love somebody. But how could Vane Weston feel any of them for me—especially back then?

“Your hair’s always loose,” he adds quietly.

“Loose?”

“Yeah. It’s not in the braid. It’s free . . . and beautiful.”

His voice is soft. Tender. Laced with the kind of emotions he needs to cast away.

I shouldn’t meet his gaze—I know what I’ll see. But it’s like he draws me to him, and when our eyes lock I find the same intense stare I’ve seen too many times in my brief days with him.

I feel the air heat up as he takes a step closer, and I can’t believe we’re here again. I have to say something—do something to stop this. But my head is swirling too fast. I can’t think.

“Why didn’t we fly here, Audra?” he asks. “You must have flown here when you followed me as a kid. So why not tonight—when we were in such a hurry?”

“I couldn’t.” The words slip out before I can think them through.

“Couldn’t do what?”

I look away, trying to recover. Trying not to imagine myself wrapped in his arms, surrounded by nothing but wind and darkness and stars. Our warmth blending into one as his hands slide down my waist . . .

“I was too tired.” I finally answer.

“Is it because of the water?” he asks.

I don’t want him to doubt my strength. But the lie is easier than the truth. So I nod.

He takes another step closer and cups my cheek, so soft. So gentle. “I’m sorry I gave it to you. I didn’t realize—”

“I know,” I whisper. I lean against his hand, closing my eyes and giving myself one second to let his warmth erase the chill that’s settled inside me from the strange winds and the stranger memories. Then I turn my face away.

“We should get started. We’re losing time.”

He takes a step away. “Where do you want to do this?”

“Down at the end. The winds should be strongest there.”

I expect him to turn and head that way, but he holds out his hand. When I don’t reach for it, he sighs. “We’re in this together, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then walk with me.”

I should protest. But after the emotional roller coaster I’ve just ridden, I’m not sure I can keep going on my own.

I take his hand.

Waves of heat rush up my arm as our fingers lace together, and I feel Vane shiver at the same time I do. Neither of us says a word as we walk toward the end of the pier. It feels like we’re both holding our breath. Waiting.

For what, I’m not sure.

Hopefully, for a new beginning.

But deep down it feels like the beginning of the end.

CHAPTER 37

VANE

I wanted to lean in and kiss her so badly I thought my body might explode from the pent-up pressure—but I fought the urge.

Not because I think it’s wrong. Not because I’m scared of her army. Shoot—if I’m their future king, then I’m the one with the power. No way I’ll let them charge Audra with treason.

But Audra’s too . . . broken.

It’s like something shattered inside her years ago, and until she fixes it, she’ll just keep shoving me away. I have to wait until she’s ready.

Huh—I’m actually figuring her out.

Cool.

The winds pick up speed the farther the pier takes us out over the ocean. I try to listen to their songs, but all I hear is a loud hiss, like static. My nerves knot into a big ball in the pit of my stomach and by the time we make it to the pier’s edge, I kinda want to hurl over the railing.

What if I can’t do this?

What if I’m . . . defective?

Great—like I need more pressure. Now I really am going to hurl.

The end of the pier is empty, probably because the wind is so strong. I lean against the blue railing and try to look way more relaxed than I feel. “So, how do we do this?”

“I don’t know,” Audra admits. “I guess you have to sit back, close your eyes, and hope your instincts do the rest.”

That really isn’t much of a plan. I can’t think of anything better, though, so I flop onto an empty bench. Audra tries to pull her hand away, but I tug her onto the bench next to me. Close enough for our legs to touch. “I need you with me for this. In case you have to bring me back when I have the breakthrough.”

Her body radiates as much tension as it does heat, but she doesn’t pull away.

Good.

I try to concentrate on the songs. It feels like fifty people are whisper-shouting at me in a foreign language.

“Just relax,” Audra tells me. “Let your mind drift with the winds. Follow their lead and hope they accept you.”

That falls into the category of advice that sounds helpful but actually makes no freaking sense. But I try to do as she says.

Yeah . . . it works as well as I figured.

Doesn’t help that the bench is arguably the most uncomfortable seat ever invented. Cold wooden slats dig into my back. I slouch, and they dig in more. I try to lean my head back, but my neck throbs. I shift again and my butt goes numb.