"I wish Liam were here," Arella whispers, making me jump. I didn't realize she was awake.

I roll over and find her sitting in the center of her floor, staring at the ceiling.

"Liam?"

"Audra's father. He knew how to weave the winds into lullabies, and they always gave me the sweetest dreams."

I really shouldn't be encouraging her, but I can't stop myself from saying, "He sounds like his daughter."

Audra used to send winds to my room every night. It's how I dreamed about her for ten years, watching her grow up along with me. How I fell in love with her before I even knew if she was real.

"He was," Arella agrees. "That was the hardest part, after . . ."

Her voice cracks and she turns away, but through the chains I can still see the tear that streaks down her cheek, leaving a shiny trail on her gray, dirty skin. It almost makes me feel sorry for her.

Almost.

"You get that it's your fault, right?"

She opens her mouth and I expect her to blame Audra-me, anyone she can think of-like she did the first time I confronted her about this.

All she says is "I know."

She walks to the farthest part of her cell, keeping her back to me. I watch her shoulders shake with quiet sobs, trying to understand how the frail, broken woman I'm looking at could be the same person who murdered my parents and tried to kill Audra right in front of me.

She really does seem different now.

Which is the most dangerous thought I can have.

Arella's smart-and patient. Odds are this is just another part of her game.

"How are your memories, by the way?" she asks, smearing away her tears with shaky hands.

"Why? Did you commit any other murders you don't want me to remember?"

"Of course not, Vane," She rubs the skin on her wrist, which I notice is bare now. The gold cuff that she used to wear is gone. "I only ask because I've been worried things might be a bit . . . jumbled."

I glare at her, hating that she's right.

She knows it too.

"That's what I was afraid of. Releasing memories is a very tricky thing. I had a feeling Audra didn't do it properly."

"She did it just fine."

But she didn't-and the chaos is almost more frustrating than the blank slate I used to deal with. It's like my past is a jigsaw puzzle where all the pieces look the same, and no matter how much I try to sort through them, I can never figure out how any of them fit back together. Not without a bigger picture to guide me.

"Well, if there were a problem," Arella says quietly. "I do know how to fix it."

And there it is. Right there. The play she's been building toward.

"Let me guess, you need me to take you aboveground, to the winds?" "I would need a few Southerlies, yes."

"Wow, do you really think I'm that stupid?"

"Of course not. Have as many guards with us as you want. Have the whole Gale Force. Do you really think I'd be able to overpower them all?"

I want to believe that she couldn't, especially with how scrawny she looks now. But I've seen her in action. She moves like a blur- and she's ruthless. She didn't even blink before launching deadly attacks at her own daughter.

Plus, she wouldn't have to take out the whole force. Just a few key people so she could get away.

"Thanks, I'll figure it out on my own."

"You won't though, Vane. That's what I'm trying to tell you."

I ignore her, flopping back on my pillows.

They're my memories. If anyone can sort them back into place it's me.

"Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me. For a little while longer at least."

I hate myself for letting her suck me back in. But I have to ask. "Why only for a little longer?"

"You really can't guess?" She runs her hands over the walls, letting the grains of sand shower her feet. "There's a reason this place is so secret, Vane. Os crossed a line that shouldn't be crossed. But I guess he figures one crime deserves another. I did do . . . terrible things."

"You did," I agree, trying to snuff out the sympathy I'm starting to feel for her.

It's not easy.

Especially when she wraps her arms around herself, looking like a small, frightened bird as she whispers, "But this place, this Maelstrom, as he calls it. It doesn't just contain me. It consumes me."

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 a.r.s.enal 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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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 a.s.sumed 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.