Part 31 (2/2)

he corrects.

Guilt surges inside me, hot and sharp. ”I'm so sorry-” ”Please don't apologize. It's not your fault. And in a weird way, I think this was what he wanted. He never got over losing my mom.

Now he doesn't have to miss her anymore.”

The only thing I can say is what we're always supposed to say at a moment like this. But this time I force myself to believe it's true.

”Now they're together in the sky.”

Gus nods and looks away.

I leave him alone, heading toward the door.

”You don't have to stay with me,” I tell him when he follows. ”Vane will kill me if I let you out of my sight. And it's probably better if I stay out of Os's way right now.”

I can feel all the guardians watching us as we make our way to the date grove. It's strange to see so many of them gathered together.

During my training they always worked in small groups. Bases of five or ten at the most, to make sure we never opened ourselves up to too many casualties. And once I was a.s.signed to Vane, I was alone. If Raiden's killed forty-one Gales-even if twenty-nine of those were his recent capture-he must've taken down most of the nearby bases. And if he wins today he'll have wiped out the bulk of our Pacific Fleet. I wish we had time to call the other fleets for aid, but I'm sure that's why Raiden is moving quickly. He doesn't want us to have a chance to regroup.

My legs feel heavy as we weave through the familiar overgrown trees, but I stuff my exhaustion away. I'm no stranger to sleepless nights.

Still, I wish I had time to steal away to the mountains for fresh air to revive me. Instead I head straight to the sun-bleached walls of my shelter.

Vane was right about the mess, and paired with the heat and the bugs swarming everywhere, it's hard to imagine that I actually lived here. I never truly thought of this place as my home, but as I cross into the small corner of shade under the few remaining eaves, I realize that, for better or worse, these crumbling walls know the story of my life.

I pull my windslicer from the slit I carved into the floor and check the needles to make sure they're not bent or tarnished. ”This must've been a tough a.s.signment,” Gus says, kicking away a couple of date roaches. ”I don't know how you did it. I mean, living in this piece of c.r.a.p, having to stay hidden, putting up with Vane- though clearly that last one wasn't as challenging for you.” ”Actually, having feelings for Vane was the hardest part. Despite what you may think, I did try to fight them.”

”Hey, I didn't mean-”

”It's fine, Gus. You don't have to pretend that you don't think I'm a traitor for bonding to him.”

”Good, because I don't.”

I nearly p.r.i.c.k my finger on a needle. ”You don't?”

He crunches a few more roaches as he comes to stand beside me.

”No. It's a mess-I'll give you guys that. But if this is what you both want, I don't think the Gales should have the right to interfere. And I will never support them if they try to break you apart.” I'm almost too stunned to speak. But I manage a weak ”Thank you.” That's one vote in our favor at least. I wonder how many others . . . ”How does it even work?” he asks quietly. ”Like, how do you break a bond?”

”Aston didn't say. He told me our instincts can guide us if we decide to do it ourselves, and that it's a bit like s.h.i.+fting forms.

But if someone does it to you, all he said is that it would be very unpleasant.”

Gus shudders. ”Sounds like an understatement.”

”Yes, it does.”

The holes in Aston's skin flash through my mind.

Vane is so much a part of me now, I can't imagine I'd be any less scarred if someone ripped him away. But I shove my worries to the same place I shoved my weariness. I have a lot of wind spikes to make.

I build them the new way Vane used, with only one of each wind united together. They turn sleek and deep blue and more deadly than I even remember, and with each new spike, I whisper a silent plea that I'm making the right choice by sharing them with the Gales.

”Is that your bird?” Gus asks, pointing to the top of the tallest palm. ”Because that would explain a lot. Freaking thing screeches his head off every morning at sunrise, and the only reason I didn't blast him across the country is because Vane wouldn't let me.” I smile sadly. ”Gavin was used to me coming home at that time.” It takes several deep breaths to work up the courage to finally look where Gus is pointing.

I could've taken Gavin with me when I left, could've let him fly beside me for my journey, the way he did every day since he became mine. But after all the ways my mother lied and deceived me through him, all the misplaced blame and guilt-even though it wasn't Gavin's fault-I couldn't have him with me.

Even now, as I stare into his angry red-orange eyes, part of me wants to look away. But then I'd be as bad as her, turning my back on someone who needs me, simply because it hurts.

I hold out my arm and call Gavin to my side.

For a second he ignores me. Then he spreads his strong gray wings and dives, landing on my wrist with an earsplitting shriek. His talons cut in just enough to let me know he hasn't forgiven me, but not enough to draw blood. A happy truce I'm willing to accept as I reach up and stroke the silky feathers along his neck.

”A storm is coming,” I tell him, beginning to understand why Vane had to warn his friend. ”You have to get somewhere safe. Head as far south as you can and don't return until the skies clear.” Gavin screeches again, and his wings don't budge. But when I repeat the command with a plea, he nips my finger gently and takes off, sweeping toward the south like I'd asked.

”It's hard to believe we're really going to get through this, isn't it?” Gus asks as he picks up a wind spike, testing its weight in his hands.

He steps back, squatting into a sparring position before he launches into one of the Gale's advance practice routines. The way he moves is flawless. No wasted energy. Every swipe precise and perfect. I've seen Gales with decades more training fight with less ease. And Vane trusts him.

And he kept our secret-without my even asking.

”Come,” I say in Westerly, and the wind spike shoots out of Gus's hand, midslice.

He glares at me as I catch it. ”No need to rub it in.” I hold his gaze and repeat the word again, slower this time.

Making the syllables easier to understand.

His eyes widen. ”Are you . . . trying to teach me?”

I nod, relieved when a wave of nausea doesn't hit.

”Will that even work if I haven't had the breakthrough?” ”It did for Vane as a kid. He used a command he'd heard his parents say, even though he didn't know what it meant. It's how he saved my life.”

”Wow, you guys have a ton of history, don't you?”

”We do.”

I repeat the word again, breaking down the intonations. Gus repeats it, fumbling over the sleepy hisses in the second part. But after four tries the spike launches into his hands.

”That is so freaking awesome.”

He flings the spike toward a palm and hisses the command, snapping it back toward him like a boomerang.

”So I don't get to know what I'm saying?” he asks as he catches it one-handed.

”It's safer for you if you don't.”

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