Let the Storm Break (6 page)

CHAPTER 12

AUDRA
T
his is why the Gales will never win,” Aston murmurs as he steps closer, giving me a clearer view of his scars.

There’s something sickeningly beautiful about the way the moon’s glow seeps through the holes speckling his skin. Almost like Raiden created tattoos of light, carved out piece by piece.

“What did he do to you?” I whisper, not sure if I really want to know. I can see other changes too. A blue tinge to his lips. Wavy lines running along the sides of his torso. He’s probably only ten years older than me, but his eyes look a hundred years old.

“Oh, this?” He waves his hands, making a disturbing whistle as the air squeals through the gaps. “This was simply the product. The power comes from the process.”

The
power in pain
.

I can’t help shivering as I ask, “How does it work?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“I don’t,” I agree. “But maybe if we knew more about what we’re

facing we could—”
“You could what? Do this to others?” He steps so close that I can
see straight through his wounds to the rocky cave behind. “Watch
them writhe and scream as you make their bodies crumble? Is that
the future of the Gales?”
“No. But what about the tricks you used to capture me? If the Gales
had those in their arsenal maybe they could stand a better chance.” “You don’t understand what you’re requesting.”
“Then explain it to me.”
He laughs.
A sad laugh.
A broken laugh.
Then he throws his cloak back on, scoops me up, and carries me
through the cave. His strength is remarkable given his hollowed-out
form. I can’t even twist in his grasp.
“Now, I’m going to need you to be a very good girl and not get
any ideas about escaping,” he tells me as we step through whatever
barrier he’s built to keep out the winds. “I’d really rather not have to
hurt you again, but we both know that I will.”
I nod, even though I’m not sure I believe him.
He’s crazy and erratic and his mind is just as ruined as his body. But he’s
a Gale
.
Then again, so was Raiden . . .
Cold Northerlies blast my skin, and I close my eyes, fighting
back tears when I realize I can’t feel the pull of my bond. I don’t know if it’s some trick of Aston’s or a sign or something
more, but I need to find a way back to Vane.
“A throne for Her Majesty,” Aston says, setting me down on a
flat-faced rock just outside the cave’s entrance. “Or do you prefer Her
Highness?”
“I prefer Audra.”
He shakes his head. “You’re going to make an interesting queen.” It’s hard not to cringe at the word.
I may be bonded to the king, but I doubt the Gales will ever do
more than
tolerate
our connection. There’s still a chance I could be
charged with treason.
The thought makes me want to squirm, but the rope around
my waist is too restricting, cutting into my skin with every breath. I resist the urge to call a Northerly to sever it.
“I knew you were a clever girl,” Aston says, hissing a word that
makes a draft slice through my restraints. “And yet you still foolishly
believe your worthless army can stand against Raiden.”
“The Gales aren’t worthless.”
“Oh, but they are. Let me show you the many ways.” He calls an Easterly, using the command I’ve said thousands of
times over the years.
“You’ve been taught to give the wind a choice,” he says as a swift
wind streaks between us and coils into a small funnel. “You tell it to
come to you swiftly and you expect that it will. And most of the time it
does. But the draft still has a
say.
Which is why you will never truly be
in control.”
“I don’t need to be.”
“Really? It looked to me like you nearly died several times this
afternoon when the winds abandoned you.”
“But I’m still alive. And they only did that because you made
them.”
“Which is why the Gales will never win. You can’t beat someone who doesn’t play fair, and they aren’t willing to cross the line
between request and demand—most of them, at least. And if they
did, it would only destroy them.”
He points to the Easterly in front of me and I have a horrible
feeling I know what he’s going to do. I want to send the wind away—
save it before it’s too late. But I have to know Raiden’s secret. Aston snarls a harsh word I can’t understand, and the draft
howls. A deep, primal wail that shreds every part of me as I watch
the wind of heritage—my kin—stripped bare.
Everything good and pure crumbles away.
Its energy.
Its drive.
All that’s left is a pale, sickly gust that hovers lifelessly
between us.
Still.
Silent.
I feel a tear streak down my cheek.
Aston crouches in front of me and wipes it away.
“I wanted to strangle Raiden the first time I saw him do that,” he
whispers. “Wanted to beat him bloody until he understood the kind
of pain he just caused. And when he ordered me to learn the skill, I refused, not caring that he would punish me. I wasn’t going to turn
into a monster.”
“What changed?” I ask, unable to hide the anger in my voice. He laughs and slips his cloak off his left shoulder, running his
hand along a line of holes that trace his collarbone. They’re different from the small, jagged holes covering the rest of him. Perfectly
round—and twice as big. And they go through skin
and
bone. “He gave me one for each day I resisted. Twenty-nine in all. I
almost made it to thirty, but then he found a better way to break me.” He doesn’t explain further, and I decide not to push him. I
already know where the story ends.
“So why keep ruining the winds?” I ask, watching the sickly draft
groan and hover. “Why not—”
“Because breaking the winds breaks
you.
The power becomes a
craving, like . . . part of you dies and the only way to fill the emptiness
is to spoil everything around you. And you can’t fight it because you
don’t
want
to fight it, because then you’d never be able to experience
the rush again. It’s why the Gales can’t win, Audra. They can’t compete with this kind of ultimate control. And if they tried to embrace
it, they’d just be consumed by it.”
I stare at the sallow wind swirling between us, hating that he’s
right.
It would explain how Raiden commands such loyalty from his
Stormers. I’d always assumed they were fueled by fear or greed. But
maybe they’re also slaves to their bad choices.
“That’s why you never came back, isn’t it?” I whisper. “Why you
hid in a cave, let us all think you died?”
“Aston
did
die. This thing I’ve become”—he stares at his ruined
hands—“I’m not going to let anyone know it exists.”
There’s a darkness in his final words.
A warning.
I know what he’s going to tell me, but I still have to ask the question anyway.
“What about me?”
His lips curl into a smile, but it’s the coldest smile I’ve ever seen.
“We both know I enjoy your company. And if you ever try to leave,
I’ll kill you.”

CHAPTER 13

VANE
A

rella’s lying.
She has to be. There’s no way Os would . . .
The thought stops cold as I remember what Os told me

about
hungry
winds. And as I watch Arella rub her pale, sickly arms, I realize there’s a thin dust sweeping off her skin that I hadn’t noticed. It floats toward the walls like a sheer mist and disappears into the swirling sand.

“Relax,” Arella tells me as I run for the metal curtain blocking my exit and try to pry it open.
Stupid thing won’t budge. And when I pound on it, it swallows the sound.
I can’t breathe.
“Calm down!” Arella shouts as I wobble on my feet. “The Maelstrom only affects
me.
I’m the one it was built for. Do you really think Os would bring his
king
here otherwise?”
I guess that wouldn’t make sense.
I may be driving the Gales crazy, but they definitely need me alive.
But still, if it’s affecting Arella, then she’s . . .
I drop to the ground and put my head between my knees, trying to keep myself together.
“So you’re . . .”
“Dying?” Arella asks when I can’t finish.
I force myself to nod.
She holds out her hands, staring at her fingers. They’re practically skin and bone, so it shouldn’t surprise me when she says, “Yes.” But I still have to fight off another dizzy fit.
Arella is
dying
.
Audra’s
mom
is dying.
“How long do you have?” I whisper.
“It’s hard to say. I’ve never experienced anything like this before. But if I had to guess, I’d say probably a few more weeks.”
“
Weeks?
”That’s a lot less time than I was expecting. I don’t know what to say except, “I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
No . . . I guess she’s right.
I have to remember—Arella’s not just a murderer. She’s a
serial killer
. Even humans have the death penalty for crimes like that. Why should sylphs be any different?
But I hate it.
I hate knowing about it, and I hate that I’m wondering if I have the power to stop it, and I especially hate that I’m sort of responsible for it.
If I hadn’t turned her in and made sure the Gales knew what she’d done, she’d . . .
Still be crazy and killing people.
This is her fault—not mine.
She stays quiet after that, and I close my eyes, trying to make this awful night worth it. If I don’t get some sleep, Os might make me stay here again, and I’m pretty sure I will lose it if that happens.
But every passing minute makes the ground harder and the air thicker and my skin itchier. So I’m ready to cry with relief when the mesh curtain to my cell finally opens and Os walks in.
He frowns as he looks at me. “You don’t look rested.”
“This isn’t exactly the most relaxing place.”
“No. But I’d hoped you’d find a way.”
“I can think of one,” Arella offers.
Os glares at her until she backs away from the chains. “Are you up for the journey back?” he asks me.
I’m wiped, and the freeway part’s going to
suck
, but I am
so
ready to get out of here.
“Vane,” Arella calls as I make my way to the exit. “I know I have no right to ask this, but I’m hoping you’ll tell Audra to come see me. It’d be nice to say goodbye.”
The plea in her eyes is hard to ignore. It looks too much like a last request. “When she comes home, I’ll try.”
Arella straightens. “Audra’s gone?”
“Yes,” Os grumbles, and I want to kick myself for being so stupid. “She’s been gone for weeks. Searching for the mysterious
third
Stormer.”
Arella glances at me and I shake my head, begging her to drop it.
I’ve never been a very good liar, and when the Gales demanded to know where Audra was, the best story I could come up with was that she was out hunting down the Stormer I’d knocked out of the sky when I escaped. It seemed like a believable enough excuse. Until they found his body. Then Fang cornered me about it and the only thing I could think of was to say that I’d meant a third Stormer who’d been part of the attack.
“We never found any trace of a third Stormer,” Os says, looking at me the same way they
all
look at me when they point that out.
“Well, you wouldn’t have,” Arella jumps in, tossing her greasy hair. “I was the only one who could detect him.”
“You?” Os repeats.
She flashes her most dazzling smile and for a second she looks more like the old Arella I remember. “You know I have a
gift.
”
Os nods, actually believing her.
“Can we go now?” I ask, needing to get of this place before I go crazy and start trusting Arella.
She did just help me, though.
Big-time
.
We make the long walk back to the surface, and it’s twice as miserable the second time—and not just because I’m more exhausted than ever.
Everything I’ve just seen and learned feels like it’s dragging me down, and I can still hear Arella’s words in my mind, echoing with every step:
Os crossed a line that shouldn’t be crossed.
Is she right?
This place is
beyond
horrible. But . . . I can also remember how pained Os looked as he described the hungry winds to me.
And the scar carved into his face is a mark Raiden gave him to punish him for choosing the
good
side.
Plus, it’s not like he locked an innocent person in his Maelstrom. He locked
Arella
—and I have to believe she deserves to be there, no matter how different she might seem.
Still, it feels especially eerie when we reach the open air and I notice all the giant black birds lining the rocks all around us. I remember seeing them on my way in, and I remember Audra telling me that birds are drawn to her mother—one of the few things the two of them have in common.
But I can see now that these are
vultures.
I don’t want to think about what they’re waiting around for.
We race even harder on the way home—like both of us can’t get away from the Maelstrom fast enough—and I draw what energy I can from the wind. But I wish I could feel Audra’s trace.
The pull of our bond is so weak it’s almost like it’s not there, and that’s
not
what I needed after all my crazy doubts.
“I have something special planned for you today,” Os tells me as the Coachella Valley comes into view—stretches of green and color that seem totally out of place surrounded by so much barren desert. “A new trainer.”
“Really? I’m done with Fang?”
I can’t say I’m sad. The guy blasts the crap out of me every session.
But Os shakes his head. “Feng and Gus are still your guardians, and you will continue to train with Feng for the Northerlies. But it’s time you start practicing with Southerlies.”
He smiles as he says it, and it reminds me of my dad when he’s about to make me do something I’m definitely going to hate but that he thinks will be “good for me.”
But when I ask Os about it, he just steers toward the Gales’ base—an empty field of sand with a row of scraggly pine trees shielding it from the freeway. Giant holes in the dunes are the only things that set it apart from the billion other desert fields around here, and it still bums me out that the headquarters for my sylph army looks more like the home of mutant gophers. But the Gales try to stay underground as much as possible, away from Raiden’s searchwinds. And it’s not like they need a lot of fancy equipment. All they need is
wind.
“What’s with the crowd?” I ask as I spot at least a dozen Gales gathered in the wash that cuts down the center of the field. It’s more guardians than I’ve ever seen aboveground at once.
“You’ll see.”
My suspicions grow when we land in the wash and I see the way all the Gales are grinning. Even Fang looks ready to crack a smile, and Gus gives me a cocky nod.
“Vane,” Os says before I can ask Gus what the hell is going on. “I’d like you to meet your Southerly trainer.”
They all move aside, revealing a seriously gorgeous girl with blond wavy hair rustling in the warm breeze. She stares at me with shy, clear blue eyes, and her peachy cheeks flush pink.
I can guess who she is before Os introduces her.
Solana.
The one they all want me to marry.