Part 24 (2/2)

Her fingers are gentle but confident as she smoothes the jagged edges of the cut. ”This looks really painful.”

”I've had worse.”

She frowns, and I think she's going to ask me what I mean.

Instead she says, ”Is . . . there a breeze swirling around your skin?” ”Oh-yes. It's been keeping the wound clean for me.” ”Uh-huh,” she mumbles as I unravel the draft and carry it to the window above the shower. I have to balance on the edge of the tub to reach it.

I can tell the Westerly doesn't want to leave, but it's time to let it go. ”Stay safe,” I plead as I stand on my tiptoes and slide open the gla.s.s. The draft whips around me, singing a song about drifting through the dunes, and I hope that means it will stay nearby-but I'm not going to tell it to. The wind deserves a choice.

I hold it up to the screen, letting it slip through the tiny holes as I whisper a final thanks and tell it to ”Be free.”

”Sometimes I have to remind myself that I'm not crazy,” his mom murmurs as I watch the draft float away. ”I mean . . . you talk to the wind. And you fly. And you bring my son home bruised and bleeding and . . .”

Her hands are shaking so much that she drops the towel. I step down from the tub and pick it up for her.

She leans against the counter, twisting the ends. ”I'm sorry, I know it's not your fault. I just . . . I feel so helpless. n.o.body taught me how to raise a sylph king.”

”Well, you're doing an incredible job. And we all know how difficult Vane is.”

Her lip trembles, and even though she smiles, a tear slips down her cheek. ”Promise me you'll keep him safe.”

”I'm doing everything I can.”

She clears the emotion from her throat, wiping her eyes as she kneels closer to me. ”Right, I'm supposed to be helping you.” I grit my teeth as she presses the rag against my cut. ”Does that hurt?” she asks, lightening the pressure.

”It's just different from what I'm used to.” When the wind cleans a wound, it feels more natural. But the real difference is the concern in her eyes. I'm not sure my own mother has ever looked at me that way.

Fresh blood seeps from the gash, and his mom wipes it away before spreading a thick, clear balm over the wound. She presses a square of soft cotton over my side and tapes the edges to hold it in place. I trace my fingers along her handiwork when she's done, surprised at how much better my side feels.

”Thank you.”

She smiles, but it twists into a frown when she takes another look at me. ”Do you want to clean up a bit? You look like . . .” ”I've been drowned in the ocean and trapped in a sandstorm?” Her eyes widen, and I'm glad I left out the part about the pile of dead bodies I hid in. Just thinking about it makes me want to burn everything I'm wearing.

”I don't think you should shower until the wound heals a bit more. But you can wash up with these.” She pulls a stack of clean white towels from the cabinet and points to the sink. ”And I'll see if I can find you a change of clothes. I'll wash your . . . is it a uniform?” ”It used to be. And I'm hoping it will be again.”

”Well . . . I can wash it for you tonight.”

She leaves me then and I strip down, surprised at how good it feels to be out of my clothes. The wind keeps them mostly clean, blowing away any filth that settles into the fibers. But a thorough wash would be a nice, fresh start.

I lean into the sink, rinsing the sand and salt out of my hair and scrubbing my face clean. My skin turns pink as I wipe it with warm, soaked towels, then fades to its normal pale color.

My scars are even paler.

Thin white lines scattered across my body, each one a souvenir from training or battles I fought.

Protecting Vane.

I trace my fingers over them, remembering the pain from every wound.

I'm not tanned or soft or nearly as beautiful as Solana-and I may not be the one the Gales chose.

But I earned him.

And if I have to fight for him, I will.

CHAPTER 29.VANE.

I.

keep waiting for Solana to leave-or at least say something. But she doesn't. She just stands there twisting the gold cuff with our initials on it. Over and over and over until I'm sure the skin underneath is raw.

It probably says something that she still hasn't taken off the link, but I don't have the energy to think about what that means.

I should walk away and leave her with all of her complicated, girlie emotions. But this is my room.

Plus . . . I feel bad.

I know I didn't actually do anything wrong. The Gales made the promise to her-not me. And I've made it very clear that I'm not interested.

But still. It had to suck finding out that way.

”Hey,” I mumble when I can't stand the silence anymore. ”I . . . I'm really sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I just didn't feel like I could say anything until Audra was back.”

She closes her eyes and takes a slow, deep breath. ”So did you guys just . . . ? Or were you before . . . ?”

I'm not great at deciphering vague girl-talk. But I think she's asking how long Audra and I have been bonded. ”We, uh . . . made it official about a month ago.”

She nods like that doesn't surprise her, then turns her back on me and walks to the window. ”So there was never a chance,” she whispers.

I sigh. ”The thing is-Audra and I have always had a connection. Even when we were kids. I don't know how to explain it, but it goes back way before you and I were supposed to . . . you know.”

”And yet, she still left,” she says, turning back to face me. ”That doesn't bother you?”

”Well, I missed her if that's what you mean.”

”What about the pain?”

My hand automatically darts to my chest, but the burning ache is gone, replaced with the heat of Audra's touch-like every spark that shot between us filled the empty s.p.a.ce that used to be there.

”It was brutal, wasn't it?” Solana asks quietly. ”That's why you were such a mess the night the Gales called me to help you sleep, isn't it?”

Actually, it was because I thought Audra had ended things with me-but I have a feeling telling her that is only going to make this worse. ”I was fine.”

She doesn't look convinced. ”One of my guardians was separated from her husband-and every day she stayed away, every mile she put between them, the more their bond tore her apart inside. There were days she could barely breathe. I used to watch it and wonder how she could bear it. And I worried for her husband, suffering every day and knowing she could spare them both the agony if she just went home.”

”I guess when you love someone, you don't mind making sacrifices,” I say, making sure to emphasize the word ”love.”

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