But in the split second before our lips touch, I hear a loud hiss, and a blast of arctic wind rushes between us.
Hannah staggers back as the fierce gust whips around her hair, tangling the blond waves. I try to reach for her, but the wind pushes and pulls at me with such force it feels like it’s trying to shove and drag me away. I lean into it, fighting to resist, but it sweeps against my legs, nearly knocking my feet out from under me. It’s like the wind has come alive—and only right here, around Hannah and me. The palms in the yard next door don’t move.
Just when I think it can’t get any weirder, a familiar voice blows straight into my brain.
Go home, Vane.
I look around, trying to see through the darkness and the swirling sand to find where she’s hiding. But the street’s empty. Just me and Hannah—who’s still battling the crazy wind yanking her away from me.
“I’m going inside,” Hannah shouts, swiping sand out of her eyes.
“Okay,” I yell, watching helplessly as she turns away from me. “I’ll call you.”
She doesn’t turn back. Doesn’t acknowledge me at all.
The wind sweeps my words away before they reach her. And then she’s gone.
CHAPTER 4
AUDRA
I’ve sacrificed ten years of my life for this assignment.
Trained physically. Mentally. Emotionally.
I’ve given up food and sleep. Suffered hour after hour under the relentless weight of the desert sun. Lived in total isolation. Relegated myself to demeaning tasks like playing chaperone while the stubborn, ignorant boy rebels against everything that matters.
And now he may have gotten us both killed.
But it’s my fault as much as his.
Once again, I’ve called the wind too loudly. And once again I’ve given us away.
The Northerly wind was too far beyond my reach to command with a whisper. I had to shout. Which means my call is branded to the draft now—and it carries Vane’s trace as well. There’s no way the Stormers won’t check the cold wind coming from the warm valley. And when they investigate, they’ll finally have their prize.
The world starts to spin and I suck in a breath.
I won’t let it happen again.
I can stall them. Confuse their search.
Then I’ll deal with Vane.
He drives away in his white smog machine, and my legs shake as I step from the shadows, scanning the street for the dark shape I know will be roosting on a roof nearby. I hold my left arm out and he swoops down, gripping the sleeve of my jacket with his talons. Gavin knows not to screech. Our role is to be invisible.
It’s Vane’s fault we’re exposed. He’s lucky I went gentle on him. He has no idea who he’s messing with. But he’ll soon find out.
I stroke the soft gray feathers around Gavin’s neck, trying to calm the panic seizing my chest, making it hurt to breathe. “Go home, boy,” I whisper. “I’ll join you as soon as I can.”
Gavin’s sharp, red-orange eyes lock with mine and I know he understands the command. Then he spreads his wings and, with a powerful flap, takes to the skies. I envy his easy flight. Mine requires significantly more effort.
I retreat to the shadows, my fingers searching the air for an existing breeze to hide my trail.
Nothing. I have to wait.
The sporadic stillness of this place is like a drain, drying up my energy, my options, and my sanity. If the air hadn’t turned stagnant earlier, I could’ve put a damper on Vane’s “date” sooner. I wouldn’t have been forced to walk among the groundlings to try to scare him off. I wouldn’t have had to let him see me. And I wouldn’t have had to call the Northerly to stop him from bonding to that girl.
We’d still be safe.
Of course, if he didn’t insist on breaking rules, we wouldn’t be in this mess either.
I hug myself, squeezing my shoulders to calm my trembling. He’s never come that close before. Another second and . . .
My eyes blur as my mind flashes to the memory of him on the porch. His hand on her face. Leaning in. Their lips coming so close.
If I hadn’t stopped him—I can’t even think about the consequences.
An ache in my jaw warns me that I’m grinding my teeth. I force myself to relax. A guardian must be calm and clear-headed at all times—the Gale Force drilled that into me. Suppressing emotion is the key to our success. The only way to endure the life of sacrifice we’re sworn to.
Plus . . . it isn’t technically Vane’s fault. He doesn’t know about the ordinances he almost violated, or how big a commitment a single kiss is—though I’ve given him enough warnings over the years. He should’ve caught on.
But it’s pointless to dwell on things I can’t change. I know better than anyone that the past can’t be undone. Moving forward is the only option.
A wispy wind tickles my fingers. An Easterly—finally, a stroke of luck.
Soft, untraceable murmurs bend the draft to my will, wrapping it around me. When I’m completely entangled in the feathery breeze, I breathe one final command in the Easterly language and surrender to the force of its power.