Free Let the Sky Fall by Shannon Messenger

should fail . . . there is another option.”
    She doesn’t look at me when she says the last part, so I can’t study her face—not that it would tell me how to respond.
    None of my training taught me what to say if my mother tells me to end my life. Especially since she sounds more like she’s warning me I might break a nail. Not die .
    I fight back the flurry of anger and pain that swells inside me. Hadn’t I sworn—and planned for—this possibility when I accepted the role as Vane’s guardian?
    I knew the risks. Better than anyone.
    “I’m prepared to make the sacrifice if it’s necessary,” I whisper, surprised at how true the words feel.
    Every breath I take is stolen from my father, so if it comes to that I’ll follow his lead and make the ultimate sacrifice.
    If it comes to that.
    If Vane can master all four languages in the next eight days, he’ll be undefeatable.
    It’s a big if, but it’s still a possibility.
    Otherwise, I’ll do what has to be done.
    My mother clears her throat, almost like she’s battling back emotions of her own. But her face is the same unreadable mask she’s worn since the day my father left the earth. “I’ll send warning when I feel the Stormers arrive in the region,” she tells me.
    I nod.
    Trusting her goes against every instinct I have—but I’m out of options. All I can do is dive straight into Vane’s training and hope she delivers on her promise. I turn toward the door.
    “I’ll need your windsong before you go,” she calls after me.
    I freeze.
    Every Windwalker is born with a song on their lips—a melody only they know. When we die, the tune becomes part of the wind. A small piece of us that carries on. Our mark on the world.
    They don’t have to stay secret, but most of us never share them. Hearing someone’s windsong is like peering inside their heart. The last person I would ever want to reveal mine to is my mother.
    “Nothing leaves a more powerful trace,” she explains when I stay silent. “Nothing will confuse the Stormers more.”
    I’d rather strip bare and expose myself to the whole of the Gales.
    But this isn’t about me.
    I can’t look at her as I sing the simple verse:
A wandering breeze, swaying restlessly.
Swept up by flurries. Lost and led astray.
Storms rage and roar, and threaten all that remains.
But the breeze drifts ever onward. Finding its own way.
    Each word pulls a tiny part of me with it and swirls in the air around us. My mother calls the verses toward her, tangling them together, like my breath has become the wind.
    “You sing like your father,” she whispers.
    I risk a glance at her, but find no warmth in her eyes. They’recolder and harder than I’ve ever seen. Like it’s a crime for me to remind her of him.
    Part of me wants her to follow me down the hall, even though I know she won’t. She won’t care that this could be the last time she sees me alive. She’ll be relieved when I’m gone.
    So I almost don’t hear her whisper as I open the door to leave. “You’re stronger than you think, Audra.”
    I take a shaky breath. “Goodbye, Mother.”
    I leave without turning around. She doesn’t say goodbye.

CHAPTER 11
    VANE
    W ake up, Vane,” a familiar voice whispers. I try to cling to the dream I’d been having—something about flying and wind—but the voice speaks again, breaking my concentration. “It’s time to start training.”
    I force my eyes open, annoyed to find my room dim and gray. The sun’s only begun to rise— way too early for me to be awake.
    My vision clears and I focus on a dark-haired girl standing at the foot of my bed.
    I jerk upright, pulling the sheet up to my neck before I realize I slept in last night’s clothes. “Audra?”
    She nods. “You remember?”
    “Sort of.” It’s too dang early for me to think coherently. “Anddon’t watch me sleep—it’s creepy,” I add, frustrated she saw me lose my cool.
    She ignores my complaint. “How much do you remember about last