There are none within my reach, so I shout the call, not caring if it gives away my location. Still, it feels wrong branding the wind so boldly.

A tranquil breeze sweeps in from the west and I coil it around the others, struggling to decide which command to use. Combining drafts is a game of words-coaxing them to cooperate or daring them to rebel. I've practiced with the other winds for most of my life, but the Westerly tongue is new. A secret power I stole from Vane with our kiss. One I've barely begun to master.

"Come on," I whisper, sending the plea to the sky. "Tell me what to do."

All I hear is the pulse in my veins.

Tears streak down my cheeks and Vane's face fills my mind. I can picture every curve, every line. The perfect blue of his eyes and the dark brown of his warm, earthy hair.

But it's a thin shadow of the reality.

I can't let this memory be all I have left.

"Please," I whisper, feeling the word sweep off my lips in the Westerly language. "Please help me."

The words are a breathy sigh mixed with a soft hiss, and the harder I concentrate on them, the more a cool rush builds in my mind, twisting and spinning until it shapes into a word.

"Unite," I whisper, and all winds tangle into a bubble around me. "Soar."

The stars blur to streaks as I rush forward, and I tell myself that the power of four will help me reach him in time. But his trace is still so far away.

Why did I run so far away?

I'm not sure where I am, but I know I've been flying north for week. Even with my frenzied speed, it'll be hours before I reach him.

All I can do is hope and fly.

But after a few minutes the pain in my heart drains, leaving me cold and empty. The shock breaks my concentration and the winds carrying me unravel.

Vane's not . . .

I can't even think the word.

The searing pull of our bond returns, jolting my heart back to a rhythm and helping me regain enough control to grab an Easterly. But I've fallen too far and there isn't enough time to stop myself from crashing into cold, churning water.

Dark waves swell around me, nearly splattering me against four columns of rock that jut from the ocean near the sh.o.r.e. I barely steer myself away, struggling to keep my head above the water as the next wave washes me to the rocky sand. My body shivers as I gasp for breath, but I can't feel the cold.

I'm numb.

Empty.

But my mind echoes with the only thought that matters. He's alive.

Is he safe, though?

I can't tell.

His trace feels steady but weak.

I try to get up, but my insides writhe and I roll to my knees, choking and gagging up the water I swallowed in the ocean. Sour bile coats my tongue and I spit it into the retreating waves until there's nothing left. Still, I continue to heave, like my body is trying to purge all the dark, sickening truths I've been trying to deny.

I swore an oath to protect Vane.

Swore to train him and fight with him and ready him to be our king.

Bonding myself to him should've made me more willing to uphold that promise.

And yet, here I am, alone on a cold, empty beach, far away from him when he needed me most.

I'm shaking so hard I barely manage to crawl out of the waves before my knees give out, leaving me face-first in the smooth, round rocks covering the beach.

The sharp ocean breezes nip at my tear-stained cheeks and I open my mind to their songs.

One is an Easterly-the winds of my heritage-singing the melody I used to search for, beg for, cling to with everything I had. A gentle song about carrying on despite the turbulence all around.

For years I've wondered if the draft is some small part of my father. A hint of his presence that stayed behind to guide me, keep me fighting his battles for him. But since I learned my mother's secrets, I've been hoping he's really gone.

He loved my mother more than life. More than air. If he knew the truth-knew she sold our lives and the Westons' for a wasted chance at freedom-it would destroy him.

"Go," I whisper as the breeze dries my tears. "Don't waste your time on me."

The wind tangles tighter, lifting my head and forcing me to open my eyes and see that I'm not alone.

A white dove watches me from her roost on a piece of driftwood, her black eyes glittering in the moonlight. She coos as I sit up, begging me to reach for her. And for the first time in weeks, I do.

She hops onto my finger and nuzzles her beak against my thumb and I realize that I know this dove. She's one of my mother's messengers-the loyal birds who perched on her roof, waiting to carry her updates to the Gales.

She's been following me since I left, and as I stroke her silky feathers, I feel her need-her craving for shelter now that my mother left her alone. It's one of my gifts. Part of what I've been fighting, trying to resist the talent my mother and I shared.

But as I stare at this fragile creature, I realize how precious that connection is. How much I've missed it.

She flutters to my shoulder, bending her slender neck to peck at my necklace.

I left behind the jacket from my uniform, but I never removed the guardian pendant the Gales gave me. The cord is vivid blue, flowing with the life I breathed into it when it became mine.

My hand clutches the silver feather pendant, and somehow touching the cool, smooth metal gives me the courage to accept the truth.

"It's time to go home," I whisper, hoping I haven't destroyed everything that matters by leaving.

The pull of my bond feels sharper than ever, so I have to believe Vane's still safe. And soon enough I'll be back to do my job.

The dove flaps her wings and takes to the sky, circling above me as I stand and dust off my sandy clothes. I reach for my hair and smooth it back, hesitating only a second before I divide it into five equal sections and weave them into a tight, intricate braid.

The style of a guardian.

I am a guardian.

And I'll never let myself forget it again.

CHAPTER 5.VANE.

I.

must've looked pretty bad when Gus brought me home because my mom flipped.

I barely had a chance to explain what happened-minus all the ultra-embarra.s.sing stuff, of course-before she ordered me to my room and spent the next hour bandaging my Gus-bite and forcing me to choke down giant gla.s.ses of blended vegetables.

My mom's been on a juice kick ever since she found out I'm a sylph, like she's convinced she can turn me human again if she just gives me enough liquefied celery. It sorta makes me wish I had to give up eating and drinking, but the Gales think I'm too weak to handle that kind of sacrifice right now. Plus, now that we know Raiden can destroy the world with only a few words, shifting into our wind form is really not the best battle strategy. So brownishgreen sludge every morning it is!

Honestly, though, my mom's been strangely cool about the whole my-adopted-son-is-an-air-elemental thing. She didn't scream or run away when I told her-even when I showed her how the wind obeys all my weird, hissy words. And my dad just clapped me on the back and told me to remember that this kind of power comes with extra responsibility, like he expected me to put on spandex and start calling myself Windman!

I'm surprised he didn't buy me a cape.

Fang was the one who freaked out about them knowing. But I don't care if the Gales have a code of secrecy. They're my family. I may not look like them-and I may not even be the same species. But they're the only parents I've ever really known, and I wasn't going to lie to them.

Besides, how was I supposed to explain why I was suddenly surrounded by a bunch of guys with long, braided hair and black soldier uniforms? And no way was I moving to the Gales' new base a couple of miles away. Raiden knows where I live. My family needs just as much protection as I do. Maybe more, since they can't exactly defend themselves against wind warriors.

A cool breeze slips through my window and I know it's a Westerly before I even listen to its song. I swear they come to find me, and I always keep my window open for them-even if it lets out all the AC and makes my bedroom feel like an oven. I need to have the wind around. It makes my heritage feel real, and like maybe the tangled-up, scattered memories of my past will unravel someday and actually make sense.

Plus, I always want Audra to have a way to reach me. I close my eyes and let the soft whispers float around me, promising myself I will not fall asleep. But it's hard. I've reached that point of exhaustion where everything actually aches. If I could just nap for ten minutes-even five-I would take it.

"You up for a visitor, Vane?" my mom asks.

I yank my eyes open as she leans through my doorway. "Uh, sure."

I'm a.s.suming it must be Fang, come to rip me a new one. But when my mom steps aside, a Gale I've never seen before strides into my room.

On the left side of his face, part of his long, dark hair is twisted into a braid that's tucked behind his ear. The rest hangs loose-a style worn only by Gale Force leaders.

Ruh-roh.

He clears his throat and stares at my mom, waiting for her to leave. I watch her jaw lock, and I know she's about to remind them that this is her house. But I give her my best please don't embarra.s.s me in front of my army look and she caves, promising to be back in a few minutes with my breakfast.

When her footsteps have retreated down the hall, the Gale leader steps forward. He has two red scars on his cheek that cross and look almost like a T, and they stretch as he gives me a thin smile. "It's nice to finally meet the king."

I fidget when he bows. "Um, you can just call me Vane."

"As you wish."

He stares at my wrinkled Batman T-shirt, looking less than impressed. But he can glare all he wants, I'm not wearing their stupid uniform.

"And you are . . . ?" I ask when he doesn't say anything.

"Captain Osmund-though you can call me Os. I'm the captain of the Gales."

Double ruh-roh.

"I've been away at our Riverspan Base for the last few weeks, trying to help them hold off a band of Stormers who've been especially aggressive. But when I got wind of last night's incident, well . . ." He shakes his head. "Guardian Gusty already-"

"Wait-hang on. Gus is short for Gusty?"

I laugh when he nods.

"Anyway,"Os says, clearly not as amused by this as I am."Guardian Gusty already briefed me on what he witnessed. But I'm hoping you can shed some further light on the attack."

It's strange to think of it as an attack, but I guess that's what it was.

"There's not really much to tell,"I mumble."I went to the mountains to get some fresh air and I've been so tired from not sleeping that I guess I dozed off and Raiden's creepy wind found me."

"Gusty told me you go up there a few times a week. He a.s.sumed you were searching for someone." He raises the brow on the scarred side of his face.

I shrug, trying to stay calm as I search for a believable lie. "Fine. If you really want to know, I go up there to check on my friend. I like to make sure he's still safe, and I didn't want the Gales to know because they've asked me to stay away from him."

Told me is more like it, but I'm trying not to sound bitter.

I know they're right that being a part of my life puts Isaac in danger-but it hasn't been fun cutting off my best friend. He bought my excuses for a few days, but eventually he figured out something was up. And when I wouldn't-couldn't-tell him the truth, he stopped calling.

I haven't talked to him in almost two weeks.

Os doesn't look as satisfied with my explanation as I'd like. But all he says is "What did Raiden's wind do to you?"

I really don't want to relive any of it, but Os insists. So I rush through a few details.

"A girl," he interrupts. "You didn't know who she was?"

"No."

It's not even a lie. That girl was not Audra.

"And what did the girl do?"

I feel my face get hot as my mind fills with the memory of notAudra lying on top of me.

Os must notice my blush because he says, "Oh." Several seconds of awkward silence pa.s.s before he quietly asks, "Is this why you canceled your betroth-"

"No."

I give him my I don't want to talk about this glare and he falls silent. But just when I think he's dropped it he adds, "If you're experiencing urges-"

"Dude-we are so not doing this."

I barely survived my parents' you're becoming a man and your body is changing talk when I was a kid. I'm not going through it again- especially with someone named Os.

He clears his throat. "Fine. But it sounds like Raiden has found a way to lure you deep into your consciousness with your desires. That will be a much harder trick to resist."

He doesn't have to tell me. I know better than anyone how close it came to working. "But why would he want to do that? Doesn't he need me conscious if I'm going to teach him what he wants?"

"I'm sure he has a way to release you. But you'll be much easier to catch if you can't use the power of four to defend yourself. And there's no telling if we'll be able to pull you back if this happens again."