After a while he asks, “Are we wandering, or do you actually have a plan?” The words are edged with laughter.
“My plan is to follow Wind,” I tell him. “Paloma says I’m a daughter of the wind, so I called on it when we first set out. It’s rare that it fails me.”
“Which means that it has?”
My lips flatten, my eyes continue to seek the horizon. “Not really failed—it was more like, unavailable,” I say, feeling inexplicably defensive of my element. “Not to mention it was under extreme circumstances.”
“Such as…”
“Such as when Cade stifled my magick in the Lowerworld, just seconds before you arrived on Christmas Eve. Then again during a more recent visit to the Lowerworld. It’s like everything is in a state of hibernation down there. It won’t stop snowing. Won’t warm up enough to give way to spring. And I haven’t seen Raven or Horse since that night. I’m beginning to miss them.”
“None of that bodes well for those of us up here.”
It’s a sobering truth, and I meet it by staring silently ahead.
With our bodies swaying to the rhythm of Kachina’s gait, I keep a close eye on the tree limbs, trying to determine the direction in which they waver and bend. Every now and then checking the pattern of the dirt swirling under her hooves.
After traveling a good distance, I ask, “Dace, do you still have use of your magick? I’m thinking the more magick we have between us, the better.”
“We’re about to find out.” He lifts his hand until it’s centered just inches from my chest. But after a few seconds of nothing, he says, “Apparently not. I was trying to palm your key. Guess the magick really did come from a place deep inside me.”
“I’m sure it will return along with your soul,” I say, becoming so lost in the thought, I miss the moment Wind stops. But luckily, Dace notices.
He folds his hands over mine and gives a quick tug on the reins. “This is it,” he whispers. Nodding toward a depressing, broken-down trailer that looks more abandoned than lived in. “I recognize the junker parked outside. Suriel’s never been one for creature comforts. He takes great pride in rejecting all forms of materialism by paring his possessions down to the absolute minimum. Which in his case amounts to two cheap black suits—one worn basically every day, the other reserved for Sundays—two ties, two white shirts, one pair of shoes, two black socks, and one belt. Phyre showed me his closet once just to prove it.”
“What, no sweatpants for long days of lounging in front of the TV snacking on chips and salsa?”
“They don’t own a TV. Or, as Suriel calls it—the devil’s box. You know, idle hands, idle minds, the devil’s workshop, and all that.”
“But from what I’ve seen of Phyre, she has more than two sets of clothes. She always looks stylish—wears makeup and everything.”
“I know.” Dace’s shoulders rise and fall against mine. “I always thought it was weird how he indulged her that way. He wasn’t like that with her sisters. He was so much stricter with them. Which is probably the reason they chose to live with their aunt. Anyway, now that we’re here, what do we do?”
“I’m not sure,” I admit, not having really thought past this point. “I guess we lay low and observe. See if we can get some kind of read on what they’re up to. How they plan to kill Cade. Which, of course, we can’t let them do.”
“Funny how just a few weeks ago, Suriel’s quest to kill Cade would’ve made him an ally.” Dace’s tone is light, but when I crick my neck to face him, his expression is serious.
“And now it makes him a threat.” My voice is somber, as my gaze moves over him. “Why do you think Phyre didn’t kill you when she had the chance?”
“I don’t know.” He rubs a hand over his chin, squints into the distance. “I guess no matter how much her father has managed to influence her, deep down inside she’s still a good and decent person who knows right from wrong.” He looks at me then, shoulders heavy with remorse when he says, “Look, Daire, I know I should be angry at her for putting me in jeopardy, but I can’t. Back when I knew her, she was a sweet, normal, kind of sad kid. I guess I feel sorry for her now, just like I did then. She was ostracized, treated cruelly, all because of her father’s insanity. The kids at school made a point to avoid her and her sisters. They never had one single friend. Then, when her mother disappeared and her sisters left to live with their aunt … well, I guess after being isolated with only Suriel for so long, the world finally broke her until he was able to effectively brainwash her.” He wipes a hand across his brow and shakes his head, as though releasing himself from the hold of the past. “Look!” he says, arcing a hand toward the Sangre de Cristo mountain range, as we watch in silent awe as the sun’s ascent washes the rugged peaks in a glorious coating of pink.
“Chepi taught me that all of nature—the sun, the moon, those mountains—all of it knows you from the time you were just an idea. That we’re all cells with different purposes, yet we are all connected—existing to serve each other as well as the whole. Too bad Suriel never listened to Chepi. He divides the world into the righteous versus the sinners. As if it could ever be so clearly defined. Everyone straddles the balance between light and dark.”
Everyone but you. Or at least the former version of you. Before you adopted your brother’s worst attribute.
I study his profile as he tracks the sunrise. His features are both soft and sharp, sculptural and beautiful. As long as I avoid looking into his eyes, I can pretend nothing’s changed.
; “Do you have an element?” I ask, desperate to clear the thought from my head.
“Earth.” He grins, his eyes meeting mine. But there’s no depth behind them, so I’m quick to look away. “I’ve felt the connection since I was a boy.”
“Do you ever call on it?” I keep watch on the trailer, the broken-down shed, the filthy white car.
“I never learned how. Chepi did her best to shelter me from that kind of thing. Why, you want to teach me?”
I smile softly, and lean against him. “Maybe someday.” My breathing slows, keeping tempo with his, as the sky unfolds into a blooming canopy of silvery blues and pinks.