Page 74 of Above Cursed Winds

“Gideon, I tried to save you that night.”

A pause as he watched his best friend freeze where he stood.

“I tried to save you when Torrin was killing you.” Each syllable he spoke burned venomously on his tongue, the acrid taste of betrayal and disloyalty beating at him. “I put your life above everyone else because I thought I could save you all. I wasn’t strong enough when it counted.”

When Jeremiah shook his head, Gideon’s hands fell away from his face.

“No matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I begged, my element refused. I tried to stop the bullets. I tried to steal Torrin’s breath. I tried to suck the air out of the canyon.” A single, broken laugh. “I tried everything, and nothing worked. I couldn’t even walk toward you to physically push Torrin away. I failed you when you needed me most, Gideon.”

Distantly, he was aware that Gideon had gasped, that Rona, somewhere in the hallway, had done the same. Jeremiah hung his head, unable to face their reactions.

Gideon’s hand fisted in his soaked shirt, the material bunching in his grip. “Jer. Jeremiah, look at me.”

Finally lifting his gaze, he staggered to see forgiveness in his best friend’s face.

“Jeremiah, why on earth would I fault you for that?”

A strangled sob choked in his throat. “Didn’t you hear me? Because I placed your life above everyone else’s. Because I risked getting everyone killed. Because I failed you.”

“Jeremiah,” Gideon’s other hand cupped his neck, the contact breathtakingly tender, “had your element succeeded, you could’ve taken down Torrin and anyone else who came against us—I have no doubts as to your ability. But brother, why ever would I vilify you for that? Why do you believe I’d be angry you tried to save me?”

“Because, Gideon, I’m a failure. Don’t you see?” Pleading now, Jeremiah’s shoulders hunched as tears dampened his cheeks. “I couldn’t help you because my own element rejected me. Why wouldn’t you do the same?”

Heartbreak entered Gideon’s features, but before he could speak, a window shattered upstairs, drawing their attention. Wind whistled through the foyer, and Jeremiah didn’t even attempt to halt it.

The roar of the hurricane battered against their windows; Rona placed a hand on Gideon’s shoulder.

“We need to go downstairs, Gideon. The hurricane.”

“Jeremiah, you’re not a failure,” his monarch reassured, but before he could continue his plea, an oppressive power teleported into the room beside them.

The Raeth sovereign’s eyes flashed. “Jeremiah.”

“Nero, we’ve had—”

Nero interrupted Gideon without apology. “Jeremiah, I need you to stop the hurricane. I can’t get my people to safety and the storm is upon us. We cannot make it through this.”

Had Jeremiah not been emotionally drained, he’d have laughed in the sovereign’s face. “I can’t stop a hurricane, Nero. It’s impossible.”

“You can, Jeremiah,” he growled back, the threatening pulse of his power electrifying the air around them. “Key has foreseen it.”

Scoffing, Jeremiah regained some semblance of self. “A hurricane isn’t just wind, Nero. At its core, yes, but the majority of the hurricane’s bulk is made of water. You’ve failed to realize that my element isn’t H2O.”

“But it is air, and you’ve become so fond of telling me that you’re capable of great things. Stop the hurricane.”

Beside him, Gideon made a move forward, but Jeremiah halted him by raising a hand. “The water vapor alone would be difficult to move, considering the sheer size of it, and the fact that it’s rotating would make it near impossible.”

“Please, Jeremiah,” Nero begged. “My people will suffer.”

“Then perhaps you should rethink your location … in the tropics.” Jeremiah shook his head, but Nero’s growl made him glance up once more. “What did you do in the past?”

“We have a Raeth who can shield us with waterpower, but she’s just had a child, and her power is weakened.” Pleading now, Nero’s eyes misted. “We can’t teleport away; we’ve too many young and too many still recovering from childbirth.”

Sighing, Jeremiah shook his head. “The sheer volume of water would be a strain even for Rukia if she hadn’t just had a child. Together, maybe—”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jeremiah exhaled wearily, his resistance wavering.

Nero pleaded, “Our children are not yet a year old, Jeremiah. Please, I beg of you. Please help me save them as you’ve saved so many of our brethren.”

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