Windwitch (The Witchlands, #2)

by Susan Dennard

“I want you to see the truth! I want you to face it, sir. I ain’t blind, you know—I’ve seen the marks on your chest, and on your arms! Just like the dead man in the cellar. We need answers, sir, and I think I know where—” “And I ain’t blind either, Cam.” Merik finally turned toward her. “I can see blighted well that you’re a girl.” For half a windswept breath, she gawped at him. Surprised. “Is that what you think I am? All this time, and you still haven’t sorted it out?” Then she barked a hollow laugh. “Why am I surprised? You didn’t notice me when we were on the Jana. You couldn’t even remember my name back then, so why should I expect you to understand—to see me for what I am now!” Cam thrust in closer, until there was nothing but her face mere inches away. Too close for Merik’s hot winds to even spiral between. “You think you’re so selfless,” she spat. “You think you’re working to save everyone, but what if you’re going about it all wrong? At least when I live as a boy, no one gets hurt. But you pretendin’ to be a martyr? Pretending to be the Fury? That hurts everyone.” Too far. Merik’s winds launched up, sweeping between them. Knocking Cam back and kicking books in all directions. But she wasn’t finished. She wasn’t even fazed. She just stretched to her fullest height and roared, “Stop seeing what you want to see, Merik Nihar, and start seeing what’s really here!” Then she launched past him, aiming for the door. It slammed, leaving him alone with his winds, his rage, a...

Oh Merik….